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Hitting the Bottom Ch. 01

By: small_town_girl



Author's note:

Hello y'all and welcome to this brand-new story!

This one started with quite a few of my readers asking "so what happened to Dan?" towards the end of Whiskey & Rye which got me thinking... what does happen to a Dom after hitting the bottom?

A huge thank you to my chief co-conspirator, co-creator and editor, the chiseled Brit whose wicked ideas, wacky humor and rock-solid support are everything I could ever hope for in a writing partner.

Hope you like it... please let me know what you think! VOTE, FAVORITE and above all - COMMENT!

xoxo,

small_town_girl

PS - no sex yet in this chapter... If that's what you're in the mood for please skip to the next one :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dan:

I am such a fucking loser.

My palms are so sweaty that they keep slipping around the grip and my fingers feel like they're made of fucking jelly and no matter what my brain tries to tell them they won't squeeze hard enough to pull the goddamn trigger.

What a pathetic, deadbeat loser.

The taste of smooth metal is heavy on my tongue but the cold steel of the barrel had long warmed in my mouth because I cannot fucking DO IT. I'm not even man enough to do this one last act that could somehow redeem me from the pure evil I've succumbed to.

No. There's no redemption from what I've done. But I could end it here. I could make sure it never, ever happened again. If I could just pull the freakin' trigger.

I just vaguely remember a time when I was a man. A damn good man, too. A loving husband to my adoring wife, a devoted son, a trustworthy and competent cop well-respected and well-liked by my brothers-in-arms.

That man is gone now; eaten alive by the monster I'd become.

I try to hold on to that memory of the man that i once was, to channel those faint ghosts of goodness into one last honorable act. I could still protect the innocent. I just need to do this one thing right. Pull the trigger, slay the monster! But I can't.

Because I am such a fucking loser who can't even pull his own damn trigger.

Dammit to HELL!

No.

Damn me to hell.

*

With a defeated curse I put the gun down, clicking the safety back without conscious thought. The movement had become automatic, ingrained into my muscles by the decades I've spent enforcement. It registers a moment later, the sensibility of the act mocking me. I still can't believe my own utterly crazy actions in the past few days, the pain and terror I've caused.

FUCK!

I feel the bile rise again in my stomach. The nausea had taken over as soon as I came out of my episode and realized what I'd done. I can't even count the number of times I've puked in the last 24 hours. There's nothing left in there but acid and still it wouldn't stop. It's like my soul is trying to break away from the monster that's taken me over, my insides trying to escape the body that carried out the attack.

My legs are shaking as I stumble to the bathroom and double over the toilet and I heave and gag but nothing comes out anymore. There's nothing left inside.

When the dry heaves stop I pull myself over to the sink and manage to take in a couple of gulps of cold tap water and then wash my face. Watching the deranged, hollow-eyed stranger staring back at me in the bathroom cabinet mirror the answer slowly dawns on me.

I can still do this. I can still slay the monster.

My hands tremble when I open the mirrored doors and start pulling out the few OTC drugs I keep there -- an almost-full bottle of painkillers, some cough medicine, a muscle relaxant and several sleeping pills. It's a small pile but I figure it's enough to do the job.

It's the cowardly way out. How fitting. The stranger in the mirror grimaces in something that looks like self-mocking irony.

I palm the pills, my new resolution smoothing my movements, making them almost recognizable. I stride over to my kitchen ignoring the grime on the floors and the mess on the counters and pull out the lone, half-full, rarely-used bottle of premium vodka from my freezer. No point in letting it go to waste. Back in my study I place the bottle and the pills on top of my desk next to my gun.

Should I write a note?

No. There's nothing to say, really. Actions speak louder than words.

Committed, I set out to work. Twenty minutes later every last pill is downed and there's barely a single shot of vodka left in the bottle and I am already light-headed. There's a fire burning in my belly but somehow the nausea is gone and I think I can keep it down long enough to succeed, but maybe it'll be easier if I lie down. I pick myself up and walk over to my living room and crash heavily onto the worn cushions of my sofa.

My vision starts to blur as I look around me at my small living room, noticing the sorry state of my rented apartment. I kept it in decent shape in the first few months of living solo, but at some point had stopped caring enough to make the effort. It's deteriorated rapidly in the last year. I never had anyone over so they wouldn't see it. Wouldn't see the truth of how low I'd sunk.

They're gonna see it soon.

I imagine how they'd find me. My next shift is scheduled for only the day after tomorrow and I wonder if my neighbors would notice anything before then. Probably not. I'll be a no-show at the station and they'll call and there will be no answer so they'll send someone over. Jon, most probably. My partner and my best friend; of course he'd be the one to come over to drag my sorry ass in.

FUCK. He doesn't deserve this. But there's nothing I can do about it anymore. Besides, by then he would probably know what I did. I hope he understands this last act of mine. I hope he figures out this was the only way I could make sure nobody else was hurt. And maybe, just maybe, he'd hate me a little less because of it.

*

Suddenly there's a thundering banging at my door, wrenching me wide-awake from my drug- and alcohol-induced haze. It's loud enough to wake the whole building in this ungodly hour of the night, and I can hear Jon's voice bellowing from behind it:

"Dan!!! I'm gonna fucking KILL you, you sonofabitch! Now open the goddamn door right NOW!"

He knows.

I don't even hesitate as I get up to open the door. I know what's coming and in a strange way I feel relieved. Undoubtedly he's heard what I did. He knows that I attacked, beat up and sexually assaulted Naomi, my ex-wife. His wife's best friend. He knows, and he's here to deliver the torture I deserve before I die. I look forward to it. Maybe it'd help cleanse my soul.

I open the door and only get a moment to see the utter rage and disgust on his face before his left fist grabs my collar and a half-second later his right hook explodes into my jaw shooting white-hot pain through my system, making my head swivel back sending blood from the split lip fluttering in a wide arc onto the dirty hardwood floor. I can anticipate his next move but don't even try to resist; this feels right. I smile.

His right hand grabs the back of my neck now and together with the fist in my collar pulls me down at the same time that his knee comes up to connect with my lower torso and we can both hear the crack when it catches under my left ribs. Another spear of pain slices my guts and I gasp and cough, but keep my hands limp by my side.

"You like that Dan? You want more? FIGHT, damn you!" He sounds anguished.

I try to raise my arms but my limbs won't obey me. I can only hang there from his fist in my collar like the worthless piece of shit that I am. With a disgusted curse Jon pushes me back and away from him and I feel myself collapse like a sack of potatoes and then my head catches on the corner of the wall behind me and there's another crack and one more splitting jolt of pain before everything goes black.

*

*

*

Everything hurts.

My head throbs with every heartbeat. My chest screams in agony with every breath. My mouth feels like it's stuffed with dry, foul cotton. I groan.

"Mr. Moreno? Can you hear me? Dan?"

The voice is soft and melodic, coaxing me to answer.

I crack my eyes open and the light from the window behind the darkened figure almost blinds me. I shut them tight again and another moan escapes as the throbbing in my head intensifies to unbearable, violent pounding. She must have noticed because she moves away and a moment later the blinds are tilted to block out the afternoon sun. I feel myself sinking down into the blessed darkness again.

"Mr. Moreno? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes, Dan?"

The voice caresses my mind, softly pulling me awake. I will my eyelids open and try to lift my head but as soon as I do pain comes rushing back, stealing my breath away and followed immediately by a huge wave of nausea. I slump back and focus on breathing, willing the sickness to pass.

"Shhh... lie back Mr. Moreno. Don't try to move or it'll only hurt worse. Here, let me get you some water."

A straw is slipped into the right corner of my mouth, and when I purse my lips to sip I feel the sutures pulling at them. The whole left side of my mouth and jaw is grotesquely swollen. A cool hand slides under my neck to gently lift my head up.

"There you go Mr. Moreno. Nice and slowly."

I drink and let the water fill my mouth before gulping it down. Some of it spills through my deformed lips onto my chin and trickles down the side of my neck. How pathetic.

I am such a pathetic loser.

That thought jingles in my mind and suddenly everything comes rushing back: My shock and despair when I heard about Naomi moving on and giving her submission to a new Dom from Annie, Jon's wife and Naomi's best friend. Exploding in a crazy tirade in front of my friends. Jon wrestling me down to their living room carpet and finally making me crash in their guest bedroom telling me I should 'sleep it off', as if my rage would evaporate along with the alcohol. Leaving a note the next morning to Annie asking her to tell Naomi I wanted her back. Naomi's reply a day later texting me that it was all over and I should move on, like she did. Driving straight to the airport and waiting there like a zombie over 24 hours for the first available seat to take the long, trans-Atlantic flight to New York.

It all seems a blur now, but I can still recall my stake-out across the street from the office building where her company is headquartered. I remember spotting her when she came out of the main door and following her downtown to her lover's place, and then uptown again, much later in the evening, leading me to her apartment. I remember hiding in plain view among the homeless on the lower levels of Penn Station, sleeping on a thin stretch of cardboard side-by-side other lost souls, and then roaming the streets aimlessly for hours before going back to her building and waiting for her by the door.

The stream of flashing images slows down to a snail's crawl when it gets to the moment she stepped out of the elevator and started walking down the corridor towards me. I wish I could delete the next few hours from my memory.

No. I don't get to delete them. I don't deserve that grace. I've tried for oblivion, for abolition, and failed that, too. Now I know that this is my cross to bear: Remembering and reliving every second of my atrocities in super-HD slow-mo, playing in an endless loop inside my sick mind.

The look in her eyes the moment she realized something was wrong once we were inside her door. The fear that suddenly tightened her face. I'd never seen fear on her face before; it only served to fuel my rage. Slamming her back into the wall and knocking the wind out of her. Rejoicing in her shocked gasp while at the same time being infuriated by it. Striking her across the face twice, HARD, deliberately breaking her hard limit right there and then, so she'd know I wasn't fucking playing with her. Seeing the bruise flare on her cheekbone and feeling a twisted, deep sense of pride. She's wearing my marks again.

Calling her a whore for hooking up with someone else, two years after our divorce.

I'm such a pathetic loser.

A miserable moan forces its way out from the back of my throat, squeezing past the huge lump that's lodged there. The nurse had put the water aside and was on her way out but now she's back, moving close again, pressing her hand onto my shoulder. Her touch is gentle and soothing and it's almost my undoing because I know I don't deserve it, and soon enough she'd know it too and then even this small mercy would be gone.

"Shhh... Try to get some more sleep Mr. Moreno, I'll come back to check on you soon."

She leaves, and I wish I could follow her soft-spoken order and go back to sleep. But the horror movie in my mind keeps playing and I know the worst is yet to come but I can't make it stop. Just like I couldn't stop myself then. I remember how I grabbed both her wrists and twisted them painfully behind her back and tied them up with the panties I tore off her body. How I dragged her over to her dresser and got the sports socks and the scarf to gag her. The terrified look in her eyes when I started pushing the rolled socks into her mouth. How she struggled and screamed.

She screamed.

I'd made her scream many times before, in ecstasy and pleasure. But never before had I made her scream her safe-word, wasabi, over and over again. Her eyes were pleading with me, begging me to stop, to respect this one fundamental rule upon which our whole fucking relationship was built; the one rule that had always allowed her to trust me.

I laughed in her face and ignored it. I tied her spread-out and face down to the bed. I spanked her and finger-fucked her and made her cum though I knew damn well she didn't want any of it -- she safe-worded! - but I thought -- I thought maybe if I did she'd remember that she loved me and would want me back.

I'm such a fucking loser.

And then her phone rang and it was him -- her new lover, her new Dom -- and I went completely berserk. Because deep down I knew -- I knew that I'd lost her forever. But I didn't stop. Instead I punished her, as if I had any right. I lashed her with my belt HARD, so fucking hard, harder than I ever had. Harder than I ever thought myself capable of. I just wanted her to hurt. And I know for a fact I would have damned well fucked her -- raped her -- if her new man hadn't gotten there and stopped me in the nick of time.

Shit. I'm gonna puke again.

I barely manage to roll over to my right side and lean my body against the railing while my head hangs over the side of the bed when the heaves start again, each one shooting pain from my cracked rib out to every cell in my body. There's nothing in my stomach but these few sips of water -- they must have pumped the drugs and alcohol out or something -- and in another moment it's over and I slump back, exhausted and sweaty and utterly disgusted with myself once more.

Loser.

I close my eyes and let the darkness suck me in its blessed numbness.

*

When I come to again the room is dark, the only light coming in is from the door standing partially open to the corridor. There's a rhythmic noise coming from the other side of my bed and it takes my still-fuzzy mind a moment to place it.

Somebody is snoring.

I turn my head slowly to my right. No light is coming through the window so it must be nighttime. I keep craning my neck all the way until my right cheek is pressed to the pillow and I rest there, staring.

Jon is here. He's slumped in the chair that is pushed back to the corner of the room, his head resting in an uncomfortable angle against the wall as he sleeps.

I must have made some noise because in the next moment the soft snoring stops and his eyes open, unfocused for just a second before sharpening and narrowing in on me. He straightens up, and then pulls his chair closer to the side of my bed and leans forward, forearms on his knees.

We keep staring at each other. He's obviously waiting for me to speak but I don't know what to say. What do you say after doing what I did? What do you say after betraying the one person you've cared most for in your life? I try to read his face but can't, he seems... at a loss for words, just like I am. Finally he drops his eyes and shakes his head looking at his hands with their fingers tightly clutched together before raising it to look straight at me again.

"Why, Dan?"

The anguish in his voice slices into me. I've betrayed him, too. I try to answer but my mouth is too dry. I swallow and try again; any movement in my lips pulls the sutures and it feels as if they are poking me with dozens of sharp pins and needles. My voice comes out so gruff I can barely recognize it.

"I'm sorry."

Jon looks like I just punched him; his face twists into rage and he just barely keeps his voice down, leaning over me to grab my collar again. His fisted hand shakes with his effort to control himself.

"You're SORRY? You fucking asshole, you think saying 'sorry' is good enough?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

I just stare back. What can I say anyway? Yes, I'm sorry. No, I know it's not good enough. Yes, I'm out of my fucking mind.

Finally I manage to croak out: "You should have finished the job last night, Jon. Or stayed away and let me finish it myself. Never mind. I'll make sure to do it right next time."

Jon pulls back and just looks at me in dumb silence for long moments. His words when he speaks come out slowly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Dan?"

The lights flicker on in the room, flooding it suddenly with white brightness. "Ah, Mr. Moreno, I'm glad to see you're finally awake, we were starting to worry about you." The soft, melodic voice is back and I turn my head slowly towards it.

"Hi, my name is Sandra." The nurse leans over my bed and shakes Jon's hand. There's a kind, polite smile on her face, but there's no mistaking the authority in her voice when she speaks.

"Sir, if you could step outside for a few minutes I need to check on Mr. Moreno now. I shouldn't be too long. There are some vending machines at the other end of the hall if you'd like to get some coffee."

Mutely Jon nods and gets to his feet and after throwing another glaring look my way that clearly says 'I'll be back, you fucking asshole' strides out of the room.

The nurse, Sandra, pulls the vitals cart she brought into the room with her close to the bed and efficiently wraps the inflatable sleeve around my left upper arm to take my blood pressure and then sticks the thin thermometer into a disposable plastic shield before slipping it gently into the right corner of my mouth.

"Keep it under your tongue Mr. Moreno."

She looks at her little monitor while I feel the sleeve inflate and press tightly around my arm. Within a few seconds the machine beeps and the nurse retrieves the thermometer and disposes of the plastic shield before putting it back in its place. Then there's another beep and the sleeve deflates and is removed to be put back on the cart as well. She picks up the chart hanging at the foot of my bed and logs in the numbers showing on the monitor, then hangs it back and looks up at me.

Her clear baby-blue eyes assess my face and her full pink lips tighten a little before she steps closer and places her hand on my shoulder like she did before.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Moreno?"

"I'll live." For now.

Her brows furrow but her voice stays gentle. "I need specifics, Mr. Moreno. How's the pain and nausea? You have sustained a concussion on top of your cracked skull and rib and your split lip; I'm afraid you're going to be uncomfortable for quite a while. But we can help manage the pain and nausea with medication. So I'll ask you again, how's your pain and nausea right now?"


Hitting the Bottom Ch. 01



The truth is I'm feeling miserable. But then I deserve every bit of my misery.

"It's okay".

She looks skeptical , but doesn't argue. Instead she squeezes my shoulder lightly before stepping back.

"All right Mr. Moreno. Let me know if that changes. I'll be back to check up on you periodically. In the meantime please do not try to move too much and definitely do not try to get out of bed by yourself. Ring me if you need anything, all right?"

"Okay. Th-thank you."

She nods curtly at me and places the call button on the mattress next to my pillow before she turns and walks away, rolling her cart behind her. I follow her out with my eyes. Her blond ponytail swings side-to-side in time to the sway of her curvy hips with her quick, purposeful steps, moving on towards the exit to get to the next room where other patients await her care.

She reaches the door just as Jon reappears there, and steps aside to let him pass. He stops in front of her and I can hear their low-voiced conversation in the otherwise quiet ward.

"How's he doing?"

"He has a mild-to-moderate concussion; It'll take time for the swelling in his brain to subside and for his cracked bones to heal, but with proper rest it shouldn't take too long; probably a few weeks. The doctors will see him in the morning but my guess would be we keep him here for another day or two for observation before sending him home to rest."

"So soon? He was out cold for fifteen hours or so; this doesn't sound like a mild concussion to me."

"The CT scan indicates some brain trauma but not too severe. The reason he didn't wake up earlier was probably due to the high level of blood alcohol and the mix of drugs he took; his toxins screen was all over the place. But we applied charcoal and pumped his stomach, and his liver and kidneys seem to have withstood the challenge well enough. He will be fine, sir."

"SHIT! Sorry ma'am, I just -- I didn't realize he was under the influence of drugs and alcohol last night."

"Please, call me Sandra. And 'under the influence' would be a gross understatement. To put it plainly he would have died of an overdose if he wasn't brought in. He's very lucky to be alive, but he's going to be all right, physically speaking."

"Fuck... Wait, what do you mean, 'physically speaking'?"

"Well... I'm no mental health expert so please don't take this as a professional advice, just a layperson's observation but... the amount of drugs and alcohol he took last night -- I don't think it was accidental, sir."

"It's Jon. My name is Jon."

"All right, Jon. I don't think your friend took that many pills and drank that much hard liquor by accident."

"Are - are you saying he tried to kill himself last night?"

"I don't know. All I'm saying is that's a possibility to be considered."

There's a stretch of silence before I hear Jon's voice again, mumbling back at her --

"All right. Thank you, ma'am - Sandra. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Jon. Take care."

I hear the cart squeaking as Sandra walks away and Jon's slow, hesitant footsteps as he approaches me, his face looking grim. He stops at the foot of the bed and stares down at me in silence. I stare back. There's nowhere to hide, but then there's nothing to hide anymore. He knows everything.

He averts his eyes first looking up as if searching for divine intervention, then inhales sharply and walks over back to his chair and sits down, forearms on knees again, looking down at his hands for long awkward moments before lifting his eyes to mine once more.

"So you think killing yourself would fix it? You think it would exonerate you from what you did to Naomi?"

His words are like a dull knife slicing my guts open. I look down, surprised there's no actual blood pooling down my torso; the pain feels so real. I lift my eyes to his again.

"It's the only way to make sure I never hurt her -- or anyone else -- ever again."

Jon's head snaps back, his eyes wide and his mouth parted open with his shocked gasp. He shuts it a second later, both hands burying themselves in his hair, his knuckles turning white when his grip tightens, his palms half-covering his face. A frustrated growl rises from his throat. When he drops his hands a moment later and returns his eyes to mine it's me who's shocked breathless. Jon's eyes are red and brimming with unshed tears.

I've never seen him cry.

"What happened, Dan?" His voice is a thick. "I mean, I know you were upset when you heard the news about Naomi moving on, but -- what happened?"

How can I explain it to him when I cannot explain it to myself?

"I don't know, Jon. I don't know what happened."

He keeps looking at me with that tortured expression on his face. "Please, Dan. It's me. I need a better answer from you man. I'm so mad at you for what you did to Naomi I had every intention of breaking every single bone in your body last night. But then - I know you. And what you did -- that's NOT who you are. And I need for you to help me understand it. I need for you to tell me how my best friend and my partner who I'd trust my life with could be a fucking wife-beater. Could be a rapist."

His hands gesture frantically. I watch them, distracted. It's the sound of urgency in his voice that pulls my attention back to what he's telling me.

"I need to know what happened Dan. It's the only way I could possibly figure out how to help you. I hate you right now with every fiber in my body. I really do. But I don't want you dead. It won't fix anything; it would only make it worse. I want... I want you back from wherever it is you've gone off to. Please, please tell me what happened."

My throbbing brain rejects his words. He can't mean it. He can't mean that he wants to help me. He can't mean that he wants me 'back' -- I don't want me back. I want me gone. But I cannot ignore the desperate plea in his voice and in his eyes. I owe him this, at least. I start speaking, not sure what I'm going to say but just letting the words roll out.

"I-I think it started just after our divorce. Once Naomi took that relocation offer and moved away... I never thought she'd do something like that. Never thought she'd just cut loose and leave. It... it shook me bad. I think in my heart I still thought we could get back together at some point... Her leaving the country was the first time I felt like I really and truly lost control of my life."

Jon is listening. At least I'm able to give him some of the answers he's looking for. I continue.

"Then last year -- you know, my father was dying and I was spending all that time by his bedside, and one day he grabbed my hand and out of the blue he told me: 'I was wrong to make you choose between Naomi and the family. I never thought it would hurt you so bad. I'm sorry'. I was blown away, you know? I mean, having a grandson to keep the family line and its name has always been the utmost goal. He's drilled that into me ever since I can remember myself. 'It was my responsibility to produce a son and I did, but it would all be in vain if you don't do your part, too. Do not disappoint me!'"

I shake my head at the memory. "I don't know if I ever told you this. He was an only child himself and had only female cousins from his one uncle on his father's side. Everyone in his family -- his parents and grandparents, his uncle -- they all saw him as the family 'savior' because he delivered a son -- me -- to carry the name into future generations. And he took it upon himself to make sure I did the same. That I didn't fuck it up."

Jon nods grimly. "I figured it was something like that when you divorced Naomi after ten years of marriage without children. And much as I'd like to pretend it wouldn't have mattered to me if I were in your place, truth is it probably would have. While I have two brothers of my own, my older brother has only girls and my younger brother's just got married , so no kids yet. I can still remember my father's tremendous pride and joy when my son was born, the first male grandson after three granddaughters. He was beside himself; kept saying things like 'the first Leonidas grandchild at long last!'. I shrugged it off, but can only imagine how hard it would have been to live with his disappointment if it had been different."

I shoot Jon a grateful look. "Yeah. Exactly. So to hear him say that... to have him apologize to me for pressuring me to divorce Naomi, telling me he was sorry... It was a shock." I shrug helplessly as I remember the profound impact those few words had on me.

"He died three days later and we never got to talk more about it, but in my mind it... cleared the way for getting back together with Naomi. But then I knew that it was not gonna happen, that I hurt her too badly when I chose my family obligations over her. That I wronged her beyond forgiveness when I decided to divorce her because of her inability to produce me a son. And that just... drove me nuts. That 'what could've been' kept running in circles in my head and was just eating me up alive. It felt like I was free-falling inside this bottomless pit and there was nothing to stop the fall. I was just gonna keep falling forever."

Jon nods wordlessly; He'd witnessed my descent in the past year and was helpless to stop it, and probably hadn't realized the extent of my depression, which I'm only now starting to recognize myself. I was still functioning at work so they all pretty much assumed I just needed some more time to get my personal shit together. That's what I've been telling myself, too. How wrong we all were.

"Then last week at your place when Annie told me about Naomi finally moving on, giving herself to a new Dom... I just... That's when I hit the bottom, Jon. I hit it so hard the impact just... shattered me. Something in my mind just snapped and I -- I lost control completely. I remember everything I did after that so I know it was really me who did it. But it feels like it was somebody else. Like I was... I don't know. Obsessed or something. I couldn't stop myself; I just... lost it."

Jon is silent again, looking at me somberly. Finally he speaks. "You need to see a shrink."

I wince. "Too little, too late. Too much damage already done."

He scowls at me. "So what's your solution? Jumping off a bridge?"

I steadily hold his gaze. "It'd work. I can't go around beating up and raping people when I'm dead."

Jon's scowl deepens and I can see the muscles in his jaw flex as he grinds his teeth. He looks frustrated, but surprisingly enough it doesn't really bother me as it usually would. Somehow right now I feel detached from it all. I watch as he opens and closes his mouth trying to formulate a rebuke until finally he speaks again.

"How do you think it would make Naomi feel when she hears you've gone and killed yourself? Have you thought about that?"

I close my eyes, picturing it in my mind. Of course I thought about it. It's the main reason I did what I did.

"Relieved, Jon. She'd be relieved. She'd be able to feel safe again. I can still do that for her, if nothing else. It won't undo the damage I've already caused, but at least I can guarantee her a safe future."

"God but you're such an idiot."

My eyes fly open and re-focus on Jon. He looks pissed. I just stare at him in confusion.

"You were married to her for a decade, Dan. You know her inside and out. Do you really believe that's how she'd feel when she hears you killed yourself after you assaulted her? Is that what she told you when you said your goodbyes at the airport? 'Fuck you Dan, go kill yourself'?"

My heartbeat is picking up and I feel sweaty again. I haven't replayed that part of it in my mind; the movie in my head is stuck in a loop on my attack and rewinds as soon as it ends. But I make a conscious effort to remember the rest of it now, to recall her last words to me just before I boarded the plane...

"Just promise me you'd never, ever do anything as... as stupid and as careless as this again, Dan. If Rye hadn't come when he did... I never could forgive you. Ever. I'm still not sure if I can... but I'll try, all right? And please, please move on. Find your own happiness and let me have mine, all right?"

I look back at Jon. "No she didn't tell me to go kill myself. She told me to 'move on' and 'be happy' and that she'd 'try to forgive me'. But that's not because I deserve it, Jon. It's because of who she is. Because she's too kind and too generous and too fucking good. She should have told me to go kill myself. You and I both know that's what I deserve."

"I didn't ask you how you thought she should feel about it, Dan. To be honest your thoughts are completely irrelevant right now since you fucking lost your mind. I asked you to imagine how Naomi would feel when she hears word of your suicide." He's glaring at me again. His voice is gaining momentum. He looks furious.

"Now I may not know Naomi as well as you do but I know her well enough. I'll tell you how she'd feel, Dan. She'd feel guilty. She'd feel like it was somehow her fault that you got to this point. That it was her fault not to keep taking care of you like she always did, even after you divorced her. That it was her fault you'd gone off and killed yourself after attacking her. You want revenge Dan? Go ahead, kill yourself. That would kill any hope for future happiness in her life, too. Is that what you want?"

I close my eyes shut and shake my head trying to deny his words, but the truth in them rings like a fire bell in my ears. But all Jon can see is my refusal to listen so he pushes on.

"You wanna know how I know that, Dan? How I know that's how she'd feel?"

I open my eyes and just look at him, finally managing to push a word out. "How?"

Jon looks me straight in the eyes and I can't escape the hurt I see in his. The hurt I caused. "I know because that's how I feel. I feel like I failed you. I failed you as your friend and as your partner. I should have noticed you needed help months ago. I should have been able to prevent all this mess from happening. Some lousy friend I make."

I shake my head slowly. "You saved my life last night Jon. You're here right now. You're trying to help me even after I did what I did. You're a fucking saint!" I gulp and finish under my breath -- "and I don't deserve you."

Suddenly I feel like I cannot breathe, I'm too overwhelmed by it all. I can't continue this conversation. I'm bone-tired and the throbbing pain in my head intensifies so much I can't even think anymore. The darkness beckons again and I can't keep my eyes open but I manage to push it down and mumble:

"Go home Jon. Go to your wife and your kids; you should spend your time with them, not with a deadbeat loser like me. Just go."

"Look at me Dan. Open your eyes and look at me."

I crack them open and see his face, drawn and grey and as tired as I'm feeling inside.

"Just promise me not to kill yourself before we speak again, okay? Promise me Dan. I'll be back to see you tomorrow but I need you to promise me not to try anything until then or I can't go home to my wife and kids. Promise."

Closing my eyes again I nod. I know when I'm beat. "Okay Jon. I promise. Now go away."

Jon gets up and walks out of the room without saying another word, leaving me to wallow in my misery alone once more.

*

The next morning an older, motherly-looking nurse comes in and introduces herself as Hanna before hooking up a drip into my right arm.

"Your tests indicate you're quite dehydrated, Mr. Moreno. We need to get some fluids into you, and this will also make managing your pain and nausea easier because we can just give you the medicine via your drip without having to wake you up to take the pills."

I just nod. She isn't asking me for permission; she's simply telling me what she's doing. I don't argue. It occurs to me that not only am I dehydrated but also I haven't eaten anything for a couple of days, but I don't feel any hunger and the thought of food makes me want to puke again. I push it down by breathing deeply through my nose.

I try to decline breakfast when it arrives a half-hour later but Nurse Hanna would have none of that. "You need to eat, Mr. Moreno, or you'll only be stuck in here longer. And if we don't get some calories into you the traditional way I'm afraid we'll need to use some more tubes and needles and things, and I'm sure that's not what you want. Now let me help you up a little in your bed and get you some sweet tea to start with."

I nod again and croak: "All right, fine."

Hanna puts the tray off to the side on the little bedside cart and presses a button on the side panel. A low whirring sound rises from behind my back as the head of the bed is being slowly pushed up to a reclining position. The movement is slow and smooth enough not to cause too much jarring or dizziness and Hanna has her hand pressed down securely on my shoulder keeping me flat against the bed as it adjusts.

"There, that's much better. Now, with the sutures in your lips you can't really eat any solids just yet, so what I've got for you here is some yogurt and hot cereal, which I hope you can manage. But let's start with the tea -- it's not really hot, more like lukewarm, and there's a straw here for you if you prefer that."

This is pathetic.

I grimace but nod. The smell of food makes me queasy but at the same time I feel my stomach rumble. Under the nurse's watchful gaze I take a hesitant sip of the strong, sweet, tepid tea through the straw and am shocked by how good it is. I slurp it all in a few hearty draws, grunting with satisfaction as I feel the liquid sooth my dry, itchy throat and take the edge of the ache off my way-too-empty stomach.

"God that's good."

I don't realize I said it out loud until I hear Hanna's chuckle. "Glad you approve, Mr. Moreno. I'll go and fetch you another cup while you start on the food. Please go slowly, you don't have to finish it all right now -- that could backfire on you if you haven't had any food in a while. But I promise a few spoonfuls would make you feel like a man again."

She turns to go and get that other cup of tea, unaware of the devastating impact her last few words delivered. It feels like she just punched me in the stomach.

I don't think I'll ever feel like a man again.

I stare at the food in front of me, all traces of hunger gone. I briefly consider picking the tray up and putting it aside but the risk of dropping it and making a huge mess is too big. I contemplate the limited offering on the tray. There's the plain white yogurt in its sealed plastic container and a small bowl of cereal and a packet of sugar. There's also a small plastic spoon, but nothing else. I wonder if the lack of utensils is due to the type of food that's on the tray or if they're trying to keep sharp objects out of my reach.

Dammit!

It dawns on me that if they think I'm still suicidal they could get me locked up in a mental ward or something. I don't know what I'm going to do tomorrow, but I promised Jon I won't kill myself today. And as long as I'm here I don't want to be locked up in the psychiatric department, even if that's where I belong. Besides, I remember Nurse Hanna's warning about what would happen if I didn't eat. Getting food via a tube inserted through my nose doesn't hold any appeal.

I pick up the plastic spoon and force myself to eat some of the cereal. It tastes like wet cardboard and any movement in my mouth hurts. I deserve my misery. Ignoring both sensations I sprinkle some sugar into the bowl and eat five more bites before Nurse Hanna reappears with the blessed second cup of tea.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 01



"Good! I see you got some of it down. Very well done, Mr. Moreno. Have some more tea now. I can keep the yogurt in the kitchen fridge for you if you want to try some of it a little later, all right?"

Mumbling a quiet 'thank you' I wash the tasteless cereal down with the sweet tea and let Hanna take the tray away from me. I can't believe how tired I feel just from the small effort of sitting up and eating and the throbbing in my head is back full-throttle. The nurse lowers the head of the bed a little -- not flat all the way but enough to get me comfortable.

"You should rest now Mr. Moreno. That's really the best treatment for your concussion as well as your cracked bones. Lie back and let your body heal itself."

What's the point? The thought pushes itself to the fore and I cannot ignore it. What's the point of letting my body heal when my mind is gone beyond repair? Might as well give up.

'If you kill yourself you'd kill Naomi's chance for future happiness, too.'

Jon's words from last night ring again in my ears and I feel a sob pushing itself out from somewhere deep in my bruised chest. Damned if I did and damned if I didn't. FUCK IT ALL!

Hanna is still hovering close enough to see the turmoil in my face. "I'm going to get you some medicine for the pain, as well as something to help you sleep." She is kind, if somewhat impersonal, and she turns to leave without waiting for my acknowledgement.

"Yes ma'am."

The words slip my mouth without conscious thought, and though Hanna is already gone and had probably missed my whispered response it feels to me as if they're bouncing back at me from the walls, filling up the whole room.

Maybe that's what I should do. I've failed so profoundly as a Dom. Maybe the only way forward is... this.

The thought brings another huge wave of nausea with it and the pounding in my head becomes so heavy it feels it's going to explode at any moment. I close my eyes, succumbing to the pain once more.

*

The rest of the morning is a blur of doctor visits and some more tests, broken by long stretches of quiet solitude in my bed. Unfortunately there's nothing I can do but think, and I find my mind running in circles again, now focused mostly on my talk with Jon last night.

It all comes down to this: I know he's right about Naomi. She would be swamped with misplaced guilt thinking she had anything to do with my decision to take my own life. I wish I could make her understand it's the only way I could be a man -- a worthy man -- ever again, if only for the few moments between the time I do the deed and when I actually die. I wish I could explain how it's the only way I could find some peace within my soul, knowing I did what I had to do to protect her. But even with my compromised faculties I understand I would never be able to convince her, which means I need to find another way to ensure her safety, as well as that of anyone else around me.

Dammit. I need to see a shrink.

*

It isn't a long wait. Apparently Jon and I are not alone in thinking I needed a psychiatric evaluation, and the hospital shrink shows up at my bedside mid-afternoon.

By now I'm actually feeling better. It's probably a combination of the few more hours of sleep, the fluids provided by the drip which were infused with the anti-pain and anti-nausea drugs, the yogurt I had sometime in the late morning and the chicken noodle soup for lunch. By the time the small, wiry, balding psychiatrist shows up I am feeling more alert and focused than I had been in almost a week, ever since my breakdown.

"Hello Mr. Moreno, I'm Dr. Pappas, and I was asked by your doctors to have a chat with you."

"Yes, figures. Please - call me Dan." This whole 'Mr. Moreno' thing is starting to get old.

"All right Dan. Could you tell me what happened?" He leans forward in his chair, his alert, intelligent eyes trained on me. Apparently he's not the type to small-talk. Fine by me.

I give him the bottom line: "I assaulted my ex-wife in a fit of madness, and tried to kill myself when I was out of it".

"Hmmm."

His stereotypical non-response to my blunt statement would have made me laugh under different circumstances. I wince instead and the doctor gives me a small wry smile in return.

"When did it all happen?"

I pause to think before I answer. "I assaulted her Wednesday evening, New York time. Got back here Thursday afternoon, took the pills sometime around midnight. Spent the last day and a half or so here in this bed. So I guess..." I do the math in my head "about 40 hours ago or so?"

"I see. And have you tried to kill yourself again since you've been hospitalized, or thought about doing it again?"

The lack of censure in his voice throws me off. He sounds calm and professional, seeking out the facts without getting emotionally involved. With a start I recognize he sounds very much like I do when I question someone at the scene of a crime. I shake my head ruefully.

"I've given it some serious thought, yes."

"Could you share these thoughts with me?"

I shrug non-committedly, but the good doctor just waits patiently, in no hurry to fill the silence. Oldest trick in the book but it sure works. I thin my lips stubbornly. I am extremely uncomfortable with the idea of letting a stranger into the deepest, darkest corners of my mind... but then I do acknowledge this is what 'seeing a shrink' would entail. I know I need to do this if I am to save anyone from myself again. I meet his eyes and answer.

"Killing myself is the only fool-proof way to guarantee the safety of my ex-wife, or anyone else for that matter, from my going mental on them again in the future. I really lost it, doc. I completely lost control of myself and my actions, and I wouldn't have stopped either -- it took her new boyfriend barging in and physically restraining me to snap me out of it. So yes, I was very ready to try again as soon as I could."

"Hmmm. You say you 'were' ready to try again -- has that changed now?"

"Yeah, well... I had a long chat with my best friend last night. He pointed out to me the fact that if I did I would only hurt my ex more, because she'd feel guilty about me doing it on her account. So I'm kind of screwed either way. Can't live with myself, but can't kill myself either. Stuck in limbo, that's where I am right now."

"I see. You know, that's a very perceptive observation your friend made. Knowing what I do about the workings of the human mind, I would have to agree with his assessment. It is very common for people to take responsibility for the actions of others and to feel immensely guilty or ashamed because of that, even if 'objectively' no-one could hold them accountable for those actions. So I would say it is very likely that your ex-wife would feel it was somehow her fault that you committed suicide."

He pauses and watches me shrewdly for a moment before he continues. "So, what's next for you then?"

I shrug again. "Dunno. I guess... I guess I'd need to talk to you or someone like you and see if you can fix whatever's unscrewed inside my head. Maybe take some meds to keep me subdued... I really don't know. I just know I'm willing to do anything -- anything -- to make sure I'm no longer a danger to Naomi. You got any ideas for me?"

He chuckles -- much to my surprise -- and pats my hand reassuringly.

"Well Mr. Moreno - ahm, Dan - I do have a few ideas but that is outside the scope of this visit. For now I will report back to your doctors and tell them I don't think you're an immediate danger to yourself or to others. I agree with you on the recommended next steps though; you really should get solid, on-going professional help."

I nod. I kind of like this shrink with his direct, no-nonsense approach. I decide to push -- after all, I've got nothing to lose. "Could that long-term help be provided by you?"

He gives me a brief smile. "It is possible, yes. I do work at my own clinic outside the hospital as well. However the cost could vary depending on the type of insurance you have, so you may want to check your options before scheduling an appointment. Take my card so that you have my number -- here you go -- and I'd be happy to see you again if the logistics and costs work out for you."

I take the card and place it on the nightstand next to my head. "Thanks doc. I appreciate it."

"My pleasure, Dan. I do have one request from you though: If you change your mind about killing yourself -- if you find yourself reconsidering suicide as a valid option -- please give me a call on my mobile, regardless of whether or not we meet again. All right? Would you promise to do that for me?"

I nod again, and then add - "You know Dr. Pappas, you're the second person to make me promise not to kill myself without speaking to them first. Funnily enough I can see how that little technique works... I gave my word to Jon -- as I'll give it to you, too -- and I know I'd respect it, even though it doesn't really make any sense for me to do so."

I shake my head slowly as I say it, bewildered, and then look him straight in the eye and answer the unspoken question in his raised eyebrow. "Yes sir, I promise I'll call you if I find myself reconsidering the suicide route."

"Good. Take care, and I hope to be seeing your name on my schedule soon. Bye for now."

I follow him with my eyes as he gets up and walks out of the room.

*

I need to pee. The nagging sensation had started a while back but I ignored it, mistaking it for yet another little ache that had to be endured. But it's been growing steadily until it made itself known in my consciousness and now there's little else I can think of except I need to take a piss.

The bathroom is only a few steps away and I've been feeling much stronger this afternoon; maybe I could make it. But when I push myself up to a sitting position I quickly realize it's beyond my current abilities. I can either buzz for the nurse to come and help me to the bathroom, or wet myself right here in this very bed.

What a pathetic loser.

I fumble around for the call button and press it and then slump back, breathing through my nose again until the pain and dizziness caused by my sharp movements subside. A distorted voice comes through the intercom behind my head: "Yes Mr. Moreno?" Pushing down my embarrassment I gulp and answer: "Ahm, I need to use the bathroom please". There's a tiny pause before the voice replies: "I'll be right there to help you. Please don't try to get up by yourself."

The intercom falls quiet and in a few moments I hear the quick footsteps of a nurse coming towards my room. I look up when she appears in the door. It's Sandra, the nurse from the evening before, and she's holding something in her already-gloved hands. As she approaches I can see it is some kind of a bag, similar to the bag that hung from the drip used earlier to provide me with fluids, but empty and attached to a two-feet-long narrow plastic hose. There's a smaller item in her other hand that I can't get a good enough look of to recognize.

As she gets to my bed she draws the privacy curtains behind her. "All right Mr. Moreno, let me help you take care of business." She puts the items she was holding down on the bed next to my legs. "I'll collect your urine first; do you also need to have a bowel movement?"

Fuck. She is going to have me relieve myself IN BED.

I am beyond embarrassed. Mortified is more like it. I swallow hard and manage to answer curtly: "No, I just need to take a piss." A moment later I add a barely-heard "please."

Sandra doesn't bat an eyelash. I guess she's used to patients feeling extremely awkward in this situation. "Sure, it would only be a minute, Mr. Moreno, and I guarantee you'd feel relieved when we're done. Here we go."

She lifts the sheet covering me so that only my left leg and hip are exposed, and then does the same with the hem of the stupid hospital gown I'm wearing. Before I can wrap my head around the weirdness of that situation she speaks again, describing her actions a fraction of a moment before carrying them out, presumably so that I don't freak out and jerk around when she does.

"I'm going to put this rubber piece on your penis; it's going to feel very much like a condom only thicker. Then I'm going to fit it onto the plastic hose which is connected to the urine collection bag on the other side. Now I'm going to tape this hose onto your leg so that this whole contraption doesn't move around... That's it. Now I'm going to leave for a few minutes to give you some privacy. You may use the call button to let me know you're done, or I'll just come back in a little while to finish up here, all right?"

I barely nod. She puts the small roll of medical tape she used to attach the hose to my thigh back into her white shirt pocket and turns to walk away, taking off her disposable gloves in a practiced movement at the same time.

"Good. Enjoy." I think that's what I hear her say as she slips out through the privacy curtains, making sure they are closed shut behind her as she leaves. I can still hear her in the room - the sound of the disposable gloves hitting the bottom of the bin, the soap pump being pushed a couple of times as she squeezes the antiseptic onto her hands, and then the water starting to run as she scrubs and washes her hands thoroughly.

Ahhhhhhhhh....!

The sound of the running water does the trick and in the next second I feel myself release my hold on my bladder and it spasms once or twice before the piss rushes out in a stream, shooting into the weird rubber/hose/bag contraption faster and stronger than I would have thought possible. I watch the process in a kind of morbid fascination. It feels like it takes forever but at long last I'm done. There's a tremendous sense of relief in my belly, and an equally huge sense of disdain at still being attached to the bag full of pee. Argh. I consider my options, and decide on using the call button again. I find it and press.

"Yes, Mr. Moreno?" Ugh. I HATE that they keep calling me that.

"Ahm, I'm done here."

"Good. I'll be there shortly."

The intercom falls quiet and again I hear her quick steps coming into the room. She slips into the privacy curtains again and her eyes focus immediately on the bag.

"Both quantity and color look normal. Very good Mr. Moreno."

I've never been complimented on my pee before. If only I could bury my face under the blanket I would, but I do realize that would just make me seem infantile. I just barely refrain from doing so anyways. Sandra is already busy sealing the bag and putting it away and then removing the rubber and ripping off the tape in one quick pull - throwing an apologetic look my way when she hears my yelp - picks up the long plastic tube, along with the rest of it, and tugs both my gown and the sheet down to cover me properly before moving out of the circle of curtains with an "i'll be back in a min".

I hear quite a lot of fumbling in the room and it sounds like she's taking stuff out of cabinets and filling up some basins with water. I wonder what that's all about. I don't have to wait long - in another moment she shows up next to my bed again, a cart loaded with water basins, washcloths, soap, towels and linen next to her. At my horrified look her face softens a bit.

"Mr. Moreno, I'm going to give you a bath now. A bed bath, since you can't leave your bed just yet."

Nothing in this whole crazy experience feels real, but of all the trials I am faced with right now, her calling me 'Mr. Moreno' over and over again annoys the hell out of me. Unable for the moment to address the worse of it I latch on to that one nuisance and spit out:

"Would you stop with that Mr. Moreno already?! It's driving me nuts! Mr. Moreno was my father, and he died a year ago."

I can see her face twist with quick temper before she suppresses it. For some inexplicable reason I feel a stab of pleasure at having caused a reaction - any reaction - beyond her professional facade. But my small win is short-lived.

"All right sir, I'll refrain from calling you Mr. Moreno in the future. Now let's get you ready for your bed bath, shall we sir?"

I wince painfully at the title and almost growl at her: "Oh no, that's even worse! Please, don't call me 'sir'. Anything but that."

She pauses and looks at me, a quizzical look on her face. "All right, but - may I ask why? Most patients appreciate the courtesy of being called 'Sir' or Mr...Whatever-the-name-is. They find that token of respect to be comforting in what is otherwise a... humbling experience." She shrugs apologetically as she says that.

Without thinking I reply the first thing that's on my mind - which is the honest, ugly truth. "Yeah, well, I lost the right to that respect, all right? I don't deserve to be called 'Sir' ever again."

Her frown deepens and it looks as if she's going to debate that, but then thinks better of it. Instead all she says is: "All right, so what would you like me to call you then?"

I would have loved to say 'you can call me Officer Moreno' - but then again that title seems off right now, too. I've never felt more far removed from 'an officer and a gentleman'. Fuck it all.

"Just call me Dan. Please."

She searches my face with her eyes, and the compassion and touch of sadness that I see there look more than her duty calls for. I wonder why she's that interested. But that look is soon gone and she's back to her no-nonsense business-as-usual self.

"All right Dan. You need a shower, and seeing as how you can't get out of bed just yet it's going to be a bed bath. You ready for that?"

HELL NO!

Letting my panic show in my eyes I decide I am not above begging at this point.

"Please, ma'am - Sandra - can't you help me to the shower? I've been feeling much stronger this afternoon and I can sit up straight without having any dizziness. Please."

Sandra pauses and I can see her mind working as she considers my request. Finally she speaks up.

"All right Mr. - Dan, sorry, tell you what we'll do. I'm willing to take you to the shower IF, and ONLY IF, you promise me to sit in the chair in there and let me do all the work. And you need to promise me you'll tell me the moment any dizziness starts; I don't want to risk you falling over. All right?"

I'm sure they could hear my relieved sigh in the next room. "Yes. Thank you. I appreciate it."

She nods. "All right. I'll do your head and face here in the bed because I can't use the shower head on it anyways with all those sutures and bandages, then I'll help you move to the wheeled bath chair. We're going to get into the bath where you will do absolutely nothing and I'll give you your shower. Okay?"

I make a last-ditch effort to get out of this bizarre horror movie. "Is this really necessary? Couldn't we just wait another day until I can do it myself?"

Sandra gives me a quick, but genuine, smile. "Well, I've smelled worse... but yes, this is necessary."

I blush crimson and would have bitten my own tongue off if it weren't too late already.

"All right, fine. Let's get it over with then." It comes out harsher than I meant but again Sandra doesn't seem offended, though her smile is no longer apparent and I find myself missing it.

"Yes, let's." she says and draws the cart closer to the bed. She dons another pair of disposable gloves and takes a clean towel from the cart, and lifts my neck with one forearm under my nape while spreading the towel under me with the other. She then picks up a clean washcloth, soaks it in one of the basins and then wrings it before folding it neatly into quarters and turning to face me.

"All right Dan. I'm going to wash your face and head now. I'll be as gentle and mindful of your various cuts and bruises as I can be, but I need you to try and keep still even if this stings or hurts a little, all right?"




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 01



"Yeah, okay." Just like I would require my sub to keep still even when it hurts. The thought rises, unwelcome, and I gulp and push it back down. WAY down. That's not gonna happen anymore.

Sandra mumbles "close your eyes Dan" and starts leaning over me. Just before my eyelids drift shut I notice her pretty face drawing closer, her feminine, creamy-white neck angled slightly to the side exposing the soft skin just under her ear, and the lush upper curve of her breasts peeking just a tiny bit from the V of her white uniform shirt. I gulp hard and shut my eyes firmly and a moment later I feel the warm, wet, slightly coarse washcloth sweep gently from the inner corner of my right eye outwards, taking the residual grime mixed with dried sweat and tears with it.

The sensation is then repeated along the closed eyelid of my left eye, gentler as Sandra is mindful of the pain every movement causes to that heavily bruised side of my face. My eyes flutter open when the washcloth lifts away and I see her folding it inside-out before using it across my forehead, down my nose, along my right cheekbone and down my right cheek and jaw all the way to my chin. She then refolds the washcloth to expose a clean surface and very gently repeats her actions over the left side of my face, carefully avoiding the swelling there.

It feels so good. It's not the physical sensation that resonates so pleasurably within me although that's nice too; but what really appeals to me is that feeling of being taken care of. Being... nurtured. Like I used to feel as a child when my momma would bathe me. Like I used to feel when my wife would give me a good back rub or...

STOP.

I can't go there. I won't go there.

I fight to keep my face calm and regulate my breathing while Sandra rinses the washcloth and then soaps it up and goes on to wash around my ears, taking extra care behind them - my momma would have approved - and then down my neck all the way to my collar bone. Another pause as she puts the soaped washcloth down into one of the plastic basins and takes a clean one from the basin next to it, wrings the excess water out, and uses it to rinse the soap from my skin, leaving warm, wet, quickly cooling clean sensation behind. Plopping the second washcloth into its respective basin she uses the towel that she placed under my head and neck to pat-dry my skin thoroughly.

"All right Dan. Now before we transfer you to the shower I'm going to give you some mouth swabs to clean inside your mouth - it's not the same as brushing your teeth but it's the best we can do for a while, alright?"

Fuck. My breath must be FOUL. Pathetic loser.

I wordlessly accept the menthol-smelling spongy swab and use it to 'brush' my teeth as best as I can while Sandra pulls the cart over to the adjoining bathroom and returns a moment later with a funky-looking wheelchair, which she parks side-by-side to the head of the bed. Its back is made of some hard plastic rails and the padded vinyl seat is U-shaped for obvious reasons.

Jeez.

She takes the used mouth swab from my hand and throws it into the trash bin before coming back to stand in front of the parked wheelchair, hands on hips, and speaks in that gentle-yet-authoritative, here's-what's-gonna-happen tone that is at the same time reassuring, but also starting to grate on my nerves.

"All right Dan, this is the trickiest part, so I need you to listen to me carefully and do exactly as I say or you may end up flat on the floor with some more damage and we don't want that, right?" Without waiting for my answer she continues. "I'm going to lower the bed all the way down and then push the head of the bed all the way up so that you're sitting straight. Then I'm going to help you to put both your feet down on the floor and we're going to wait there for a half-minute or so to make sure you don't get dizzy. Then I'm going to support you and move you from the bed straight to the chair. What I need you to do is just let me guide you into the chair and to the extent that you can grab the chair's armrests to take some of your weight as you go down. You got that?"

"Yes, ma'am". I just barely stop myself from giving her a mock salute, too.

She cracks a tiny smile at me. "Good. Let's do this."

She gets the bed into position and helps me sit up facing the side, my naked feet on the smooth, cold floor. I feel my heart rate pick up a little and can't be sure if it's from the small effort of sitting up, or from my excitement with the idea of getting out of bed for the first time in 48 hours... Or maybe something else. Thankfully there's only a dull ache in the background of my head and surprisingly almost no dizziness, and after verifying I am not going to drop Sandra moves closer and wraps her arm around my torso, her body squeezing against my uninjured right side, her left palm taking a solid grip just under my left armpit.

She tells me to hold onto her right shoulder and lean my right side onto her as she pushes both of us up to an almost-stand, and then helps me take the one step forward before turning my back towards the chair and crouching down supporting almost all of my weight as I fold slowly into the chair. Remembering her instructions I release my grip on her shoulder and bring both my arms down and grab the handrails, thankfully managing to take some of my weight on my own until I am seated in the chair.

Sandra backs up breathing a little harder than before. This must be hard work - she is about 5'6" and even with her slightly curvy figure and the good muscle I just felt in her upper body can't weigh more than 140 pounds, 145 tops. With my own 5'11" and solid build I must be a good 40 pounds heavier. I can't help but be impressed with her technique - this lady knows her job.

She crouches down once more and takes my feet one at a time to rest them against the foot rests and again I feel a strange mix of comfort and humiliation from the way she's treating me. She seems blissfully unaware of my inner struggle as she gets up to walk around me and releases the brake while at the same time giving the wheelchair a gentle push, and we're off to the shower.

Once there Sandra parks me in front of the back wall keeping the hand-held shower-head spray away from me and adjusts the water temperature, having me hold out my hand and approve of it before securing it back in its holding place, still aimed at the far wall so as not to drench me before she's ready to start.

"All right Dan, let's get this gown off now; I have a nice clean one for you here for when we're done".

I nod as I feel her undo the ties at my nape and tug at the velcro mid-way down my back and a moment later she pulls the thin cotton off and away from me, and I am left completely naked and feeling more vulnerable and exposed than I've ever felt in my life. Thankfully I am facing the wall and Sandra is standing to my side and a little to the back and can't see my face. I don't think I could meet her eyes right now. Or ever again. FUCK.

Sandra picks up the shower head and holds it at an angle so that the water hits the back of my neck and my shoulders and cascades down in hot rivulets. Lord but that feels good. I close my eyes and relax back against the chair, resolved to just let her do her work as quickly as possible and be done with it.

"Here. Hold the shower head for a moment will you?"

Her voice makes me open my eyes and I grab the cheap plastic cylinder and keep the hot stream to my chest. Sandra soaps a washcloth again and sets out to wash my shoulders and my arms all the way down to my palms and between my fingers, and then my back as I lean slightly forward in the chair. So far so good. Then she has me lean back as she does my torso and I watch her methodical movements down my chest, very gentle over my badly-bruised right rib cage, and down my belly.

To my utter horror I feel a tiny twinge down in my groin; her proximity and the lovely warm and wet sensation apparently having some impact on that part of my anatomy. I cringe internally and do my best to suppress that feeling. Just what I need right now. Man!

"Rinse." She turns around to her cart again while I rinse myself with the shower head. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her rinsing and re-soaping her washcloth and then she's back at my side.

"Keep the spray on your back now, I'm going to wash your legs."

I do as I'm told and Sandra leans over and washes both my legs in large circular motions, from the tops of my thighs down to my very feet, first my right leg, then my left. Again I cannot keep my eyes away from the sight of this nurse - this rather lovely nurse, I must admit - with her white uniform blotched wet in some areas and sticking to her cute curves as she bends and reaches over to take care of me, her sweet smelling body rubbing occasionally against my naked skin.

Damn that twitching. DOWN, BOY!

It seems to me she's keeping her eyes averted on purpose, but I cannot be sure if it's to give me privacy, or because she is embarrassed of the movement down there, or if she really is as focused on the immediate task at hand as she seems to be. Either way she turns back to her cart when she's done with my legs and repeats her rinsing and resoaping of the washcloth, letting me wash the soap off my own legs with the hot spray. Then she turns back to me and says -

"All right Dan, I'm going to wash your genitals and the entire groin area now. Please keep the stream on your back, okay?"

I give her a disbelieving look. "Seriously? Can't I f- freakin' wash my own package!?"

To my surprise I can see her lips twitching at the corners but she keeps it together when she answers, and I can sense the effort she's putting into keeping her tone calm and even.

"Please, Dan. You promised to behave and let me wash you, and I expect you to keep that promise. I could let you try and wash yourself but that would entail folding forward in order to reach down all the way to clean around your own anus, and I can pretty much guarantee that's going to make you dizzy as hell. So I'm sorry but the answer is no, you cannot freakin' wash your own package. Not today at least. Now sit back, keep the spray away from me and let me do my job, alright?"

"Oh for Pete's sake could someone just shoot me already?!"

She chuckles and I realize I've spoken out loud. Groaning in utter misery I do as I'm told and lean back defeatedly in the chair, keeping the spray on my shoulder blades and my eyes tightly shut, submitting to what is, by far, the most humiliating experience of my life.

...which gets 100 times worse a moment later, when I feel her latex-gloved hand gripping the base of my dick firmly, pulling the foreskin downwards to expose the head, while her other hand wraps the warm, wet, soft-yet-slightly-coarse washcloth around the super-sensitive glans and swipes around it in a deliciously tight circular motion.

FUCKKK!

A deep, guttural groan rises from my chest and my eyes fly open and zero in on the sight before my brain can stop them and I watch in horrified amazement as my dick swells inside her tight grip, the head rising up as if seeking her touch again. Sandra ignores it as she continues with her routine, folding the washcloth over to expose a different surface than the one just used, wraps it around the whole shaft and repeats the soapy-smooth circular swiping motion around my entire length.

Oh my fucking Lord. This cannot be real.

Pleasure swells low in my groin and I am helpless to stop my dick from growing heavier and harder by the second. I feel slightly nauseated again, my left hand gripping the armrest so hard the knuckles look white pushing against the skin, my right hand holding the shower head in a similar death grip, and every muscle in my body tightening with my struggle for control.

Still holding my dick in her gloved hand Sandra now moves to rub the soapy washcloth over and around and under my balls, cleaning every last inch of the sensitive scrotum. I bite my teeth and feel myself shaking slightly with my futile effort to chill myself. Sandra pauses to rinse and soap her cloth again and then turns back to me, her eyes meeting my shame-filled, slightly-glazed hooded stare.

"Relax, Mr. - Dan. This is just physiology, nothing to be embarrassed about. All it means is you've got a healthy, functioning set of genitals. I promise you I'm not offended, and that we'll be done in another minute."

Christ almighty. She may not be offended but I am absolutely fucking mortified.

I nod and remember to breathe just as she reaches back between my legs, cleansing one side of my groin all along the crease and then the other before swiping down my perineum and then over and around my anus, her other hand holding my still-fucking-rock-hard-dick to one side to keep it out of the way. She gives my butt crack two more deep, soapy swipes before pulling back and away from me.

"That's it Dan. The worst of it is behind you. Now rinse all the soap and I'll towel you dry and dress you up and get you back to your bed and we'll be all done."

I follow her instructions keeping my eyes trained on my traitorous body but can see Sandra moving about through my peripheral vision. She wrings and then throws the used washcloths into the dirty laundry sack that stands at the corner of the spacious hospital bathroom, and then drains the water basins down the sink, washing each one three times before drying them well with paper towels and placing them back on the cart. She then picks up a clean, fluffy towel and turns back to me.

"All done rinsing?"

"Yes ma'am" I mumble without meeting her eyes and she shuts off the spray and takes the shower head from my hand. I try not to jump when her fingers brush mine. She places it back in its holder and then turns back to me and does quick work pat-drying me from neck to toes, which unfortunately includes my still-excited mid-section, which is all too happy with this additional round of attention. I grit my teeth and keep my mouth shut.

When she's done she throws the towel straight into the dirty laundry sack again - she's got a good aim - and picks up a clean hospital gown from her cart. She helps me into it and ties it in the back for me, and then to my surprise takes another, super-sized bath sheet from the cart and drapes it over me so that I am fully covered from the chin down with the towel.

"We need to keep you warm. Don't want you getting the chills or anything. Shall we go?"

"Yes please."

Sandra wheels me out from the bathroom and back to the side of the bed, again making sure the privacy curtains are pulled all the way to keep prying eyes out.

"Are you okay sitting up for a couple of minutes longer Dan? I'd like to use this opportunity that I have you out of bed and change the sheets as well."

"Sure, no problems." I mumble quietly. In all honesty I feel bone-tired and a little dizzy and my head had started throbbing again but I know I can keep it together for a little while longer, and at the same time I feel an inexplicable need to do what I can to make Sandra's job easier.

"Good. I'll be right back."

She steps outside of the little circle of curtains and I hear the now-familiar sound of the linen closet being opened and closed before she's back, carrying a new set of bed sheets with her, which she promptly places on my lap with a tiny smile. I don't protest and watch her quick, efficient movements as she strips the bed bare and then makes it with the fresh set, making it look down-right inviting to my now-fatigued eyes.

When she's done she straightens up and turns back to level a look at me and give me the now-expected little brief:

"Okay! We've got both you and the bed nice and clean, so all we need to do now is get you back onto it and you'll be all done. It's going to be similar to the way we got you off the bed only in reverse order, are you ready?"

Again I hear the "yes, ma'am" slip out of my lips and I cringe and then shrug it off internally while bracing myself with my hands on the armrests. Sandra hugs me close in order to lift me up. The proximity of her body with its sweet smell wafting and tickling my nose and the soft curve of her breast pressing tightly against my side makes me remember my still not-quite-deflated cock. I feel my face grow hot and red again and am thankful for the concentration and effort required by both of us to get me back onto the bed safely.

Man, I am beyond pathetic.

Finally I'm lying flat on my back with my head resting against the pillow. I am pretty much ready to drop from the effort of the last 10 minutes and am even dizzier from the latest change in position, but at the same time I feel truly refreshed.

"Thank you, Sandra. I really do appreciate this. And I apologize for... you know."

She waves it off with a little laugh. "Nonsense! I told you already I am not in the least bit offended. Quite the opposite, in fact. All it means is your body works normally - and I take it as a kind of an impersonal compliment that I happened to make it tick. To be completely honest it's good to get this reassurance from time to time."

My eyes open wide at her last admission and I watch with some satisfaction the pink blush staining her cheeks under her slightly-shocked eyes that seem to be screaming 'I cannot believe I just said that out loud!' at me. Now it's my turn to chuckle, though the sound is strange to my own ears.

"Glad to rub your ego anytime, ma'am. But I'm sure you get your fair share of real compliments - with that body and that face... you don't need the involuntary reactions of a pathetic loser like me to tell you you're hot, right?"

She gasps loudly and throws me a mock stern look. "Now, now, Dan, if I didn't know any better I'd think you're flirting with me. That's not very appropriate, don't you think?"

My smile widens. "No, I guess it's not... but I've decided I have a new mantra in life. It's called 'screw propriety'. What'ya think about that?"

She smiles her amusement down at me. "What I think, Dan, is that I really like seeing you in a better mood this evening. Now if you'll excuse me I have a few more patients to take care of so I'll be outta here. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Her words are as professional and appropriate as can be, but I note with another pang of satisfaction that the blush had not left her cheeks just yet.

Man, but it feels good to flirt. I haven't done that in... oh boy. Ages. With a lopsided smile so wide on my right side that it feels completely foreign on my face I manage to reply in a civilized manner.

"Yes, ma'am."

*

Jon comes back to see me much later in the evening. It's long past visit hours but apparently the man can be convincing, plus it doesn't hurt that I'm alone in a room at the end of the hall. We're not going to bother other patients with our chat.

He sits down in the chair next to me and leans forward, keeping his voice low so that it doesn't carry in the already-quiet ward.

"How are you feeling?"

I can see apprehension written all over his face and am not sure what it's about. Probably just the stress of worrying about his psycho friend, on top of everything else that he's got going on in his life. I re-think my single-syllable reply and make an effort to give a detailed-enough answer to satisfy Jon's concerns.

"I'm better, Jon. Saw the house shrink today. He cleared me from institutionalization, at least for now. He thinks you're 'very perceptive' by the way."

Jon tilts his head, a quizzical expression on his face. "Huh?"

"I told him what you said about Naomi's feeling guilty. He said that's very perceptive of you and in his professional opinion you're right."




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 01



Jon's face clears, and I see the very corner of his mouth twitch in a tiny smile, but all he says is: "Ah."

"Yeah. Anyways... I liked him. I'm hoping to continue seeing him after I'm out of here."

Jon nods. "Good."

But he looks apprehensive again, and hesitates before he continues. "Dan, I know now might not be the right time to tell you, but I filled in the shift at the morning briefing as to what happened. I didn't have too much option because not only were they all asking after you, but there is also the small matter of my assault. I can't and won't hide from that"

Oh FUCK. I knew this would be coming... but didn't think it would be this soon. I try but fail to keep the hurt out of my voice.

"That's great, just fucking great. Not only does the whole shift now know what a complete fuckup I am, but they will kick me out of the only job I can do. Thanks a bunch pal."

Jon straightens in his chair and I can see his fists balling before he consciously relaxes them, instead gesturing much like he would when trying to quieten a spooked horse. "Hey, calm down fellah, calm down. It wasn't like that at all. It was a shock to everyone, for sure, but when all's said and done most of the guys are really rooting for you. Do you want to know what was said?"

"Go on, you might as well. Give me the worst." I feel my back stiffen as I brace myself.

"Ok. So, before the briefing broke up it was Sergeant 'I don't give a shit about anyone' Mathias who asked how you were doing and asked if I could let the guys know what had happened. Remember, I had called the ambulance and your injuries had to be explained. He knew the basics because of the incident report, but he wanted detail. I had to give it."

There is an uncomfortable silence for what seems like an eternity before I sigh. "Sorry Jon, I was out of order earlier. You were right to tell them. How did it go?"

Jon must have been holding his breath throughout the silence because now I can see him quietly release it. "I told them that I wasn't going to go into personal details, but your divorce from Naomi, and your fathers' death, had thrown you out of kilter. We all knew you weren't right so that was no surprise. I told them that you had flown to the States earlier in the week and had met with her. I again didn't go into details and told them I wouldn't, suffice to say i told them that it hadn't gone well and you had badly assaulted her. I didn't give any specifics as to what you actually did."

"Oh fuck. How did that go down?"

"Well they were all shocked as you can imagine. Lots of disbelief because that's so far out of character for you. The immediate questions were about Naomi and was she okay. I assured them that she was, told them that I spoke with her via video chat and that she was shaken, but okay. They then wanted to know what had happened to you after to cause all this shit. They are all just concerned about you, even Mathias."

Phew. I release the huge breath I was holding. "Thanks. So what happened then?"

"I told them that her new boyfriend had intervened and basically run you out of town and put you on the first flight home." Jon's mouth crooks into a semi-smile.

"That caused some fun as you can imagine as the comments came thick and fast about the boyfriend being 9'6" and 400 lbs throwing you into the baggage hold of a 747... Anyways, to cut it short I told them that when I had heard about it I flipped. I had gone round to your house and basically knocked lumps out of you, and in doing so had knocked you out, hence the ambulance call."

Jon falls silent and I just lie there and let his words sink into my buzzing head. All in all, this is way better than I could have imagined it to go. Way better than I deserve. After several silent moments I speak up, needing to get one more answer.

"What's going to happen to you, Jon? Are you going to be in trouble now because of all this?"

"That's up to you, Dan. I had a chat with Mathias after, and he said that you can either file charges, or drop it. The choice is yours. He would prefer to keep it in house and not have our dirty linen aired in public, but as far as I am concerned if you file then I will plead guilty before it hits the courts and the lawyers." Jon pauses and drops his eyes, looking at his hands that are clasped tightly together between his bent knees. It takes him a moment to lift his head and meet my eyes again, and when he speaks his voice is low and pained. "In some respects I acted as badly as you did and lost my temper. I deserve whatever comes my way too."

I don't hesitate in replying this time. "I'm dropping any complaint, Jon. No way do I want you to suffer because of my stupidity. Besides, nobody has taken a statement from me yet, so officially nothing has been filed. As far as the report goes, I can just say I was drunk and fell. Pretty much the truth anyway."

Jon nods, clearly relieved. "Thanks Dan, I appreciate that, though you might want to rethink. I also had to tell them what I discovered yesterday about your attempt to top yourself. It would have come out in the wash when the quacks here informed the bosses, so I saved them the surprise." He looks at me apologetically, and then continues.

"I did it for another reason, too - yours and the publics' safety. It would appear you are getting released soon. The police federation by the way is going to look into paying for your time with the head docs, but I have been instructed to accompany you home and retrieve your service weapon, baton, spray and cuffs... Sorry."

The pounding in my head is coming back with a vengeance and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach threatens to erupt again. I force myself to ask the next question though I'm afraid I already know the answer to it.

"So I am going to lose my job then?"

Jon's face is grim and he doesn't try to hide it. "I would say the odds are that you will, but I think you knew that anyway. Don't worry about it now though, please. It takes months for these decisions to be made, and the priority is getting you right again. The guys and I are going to do our best to support you through this. Let's get you healed first."

I release the air I've been holding inside my aching chest with a big sigh. "Yeah. I guess you're right." I try for a small smile, miss by a mile, and drop it. "Hey, thanks again Jon... for everything."

Jon nods. "You're welcome. Now you look like you can use some more sleep so I'll be on my way unless you need anything else right now?"

I do have a question I want to ask but am not sure I'm strong enough to hear the answer. My internal debate is decided when Jon sees the indecision on my face.

"C'mon Dan, spit it out. What is it?"

I gulp and stammer on my question but get it out none the less. "D-did Annie tell N-Naomi what happened? T-that I tried to commit suicide?"

Jon frowns at me. "Why do you want to know? You think she'll forgive you out of pity?"

I try to shrug and wince at the pain the movement causes. "I... I dunno."

Jon purses his lips but eventually answers my question. "No, I asked Annie not to tell Naomi anything just yet. Listen, Dan, I'm not an expert on these things or anything, but I don't think you two should be in touch anytime soon. I'm afraid that any contact would only drag you back to that bad place in your head. I think you should do what she told you to do: Move on. Let her live her new life in peace. Dragging her into all this drama... I don't think that would be fair to her, Dan. I really don't."

It hurts to hear it, but I know he's right. I am no longer a part of her life. I'd better accept that if I have any hope of moving on. I feel like crying but I'll be damned if I would right now. There's very little pride left in me, but I am not going to humiliate myself by weeping like a little girl in front of my partner. I bite my lips to stop them from shaking and then hiss through my teeth: "Fine."

Jon curtly nods and gets up to leave, but then stops and stares down at me again. "Do I need to make you promise me not to try to off yourself again until tomorrow?"

I feel the small smile curve the right corner of my mouth again and this time it feels just a little weird. "Nah, I think I'm over that hump for now. But I can still make you that promise if it would help you sleep better."

He laughs his relief and then returns his eyes to me, the grin still visible on his face. "Yeah, why not? Make you work for me a little. Go ahead, promise me again."

The right corner of my mouth is now definitely curled up, and it feels almost right. "Yes Jon, I promise you I will not top myself before seeing you again tomorrow. All right?"

"Thanks mate. I appreciate it. I'll see you tomorrow." He gives me a mock salute as he turns and walks out. I feel that tentative smile hover on my face for long minutes after he's gone.

At least my best friend still likes me, sort of.

Maybe there's hope for me after all.

*

Author's note:

Did you like this story? Please VOTE, FAVORITE and COMMENT - thank you!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 02



Author's note:

Welcome back to this story, y'all! Hope you like this second chapter :-)

If you're new to this story - welcome aboard! It would make more sense if you read Ch. 01 first, and if you've got a bit more time you may want to check out my previous series - "Lucky Bastard" and "Whiskey and Rye" - before starting this one, since they are all kind of intertwined.

Finally - another whole-hearted thank you to the wicked Brit - my co-creator and editor.

Enjoy!

xoxo

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dan:

Sunday at the hospital proves to be a unique kind of torture. The view from my window shows a beautiful day outside, and inside the ward every patient has their friends and family around them, chatting and laughing. Everyone but me.

I am painfully aware of just how alone I am. The reality of my situation sinks in, pulling me down again into my dark despair. My parents are both dead, I have no siblings or cousins or any other close family, and I have single-handedly destroyed the little family I had created with my ex-wife. My friends from the force will shun me now that they know what I did; even my best friend told me he hated my guts.

I can't blame them. I share the sentiment.

And yet I have already resigned to the fact that suicide isn't an option for me because it would only hurt Naomi more.

So what now?

It hurts too much to think about and I find myself escaping to sleep as often as I can. I spend most of the day slumbering in-between check-ups and meals; but by the afternoon I can sleep no more. I am filled with restless agitation and the need to leave my bed becomes all-consuming. I reach for the call button and press it, and within a moment a distorted voice sounds through the intercom:

"Yes, Mr. Moreno?"

Ugh. That 'Mr. Moreno' again.

"Er, would it be possible for me to get out of bed somehow? Maybe get a wheelchair so that I can move about a bit?" I try my best to keep the frustration out of my voice.

"Yes, we can do that. I'll bring one over in a few moments."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." I really am grateful at the prospect of leaving the confines of my room and the sentiment ring through my words.

A few moments later Hanna, the matronly nurse who I had previously met, comes into my room pushing a wheelchair and parks it side-by-side to the bed in a way similar to how Sandra did it with the U-shaped chair yesterday. I shift uncomfortably at the memory.

"So, Mr. Moreno, I assume you know the drill?" She asks this matter-of-factly and I respond in fashion.

"Yes ma'am, Sandra had already put me through the paces yesterday, and I have done it again this morning with the help of another nurse when I needed to use the bathroom. Oh and please call me Dan. Please."

"All right, sure. Good. Let's do it then. Let me adjust the bed for you."

When the bed is lowered all the way down and its head is pulled upright I swing my own legs one at a time to the side so that my feet are flat on the floor. I sit up straight and notice that I am actually quite steady, and the dull pain in my head and my ribs increases only slightly with my movements. Still I don't try to move to the chair on my own and wait for Hanna to get into position close at my side and help me to my feet and then down into the chair. Thankfully this time I manage to actually take most of my weight on my own using my hands on the armrests.

"Very good, Dan. Now I'm sure you can figure out how to wheel yourself, so feel free to roam the place. You may want to go outside to the balcony, the weather's fine and it may actually do you some good to breathe some fresh air. Please be in your room by 5:30pm for dinner, all right?"

"Yes ma'am. Thank you."

With a quick nod and a polite smile she turns and leaves the room and I put my hands on the circular handles running the edges of the wheels and feel a tiny flutter of excitement down in my belly as I give them the first test shove. They yield easily and I roll out of the room, pausing momentarily at the hall outside my door to take in my temporary accommodations for the first time.

It's a small neurological ward in a provincial hospital; only a dozen or so patient rooms in total judging by the number of doors I can see from my spot at the end of the wide corridor, and I know each of them would host up to two patients. I've been here before - not in this specific ward but in other parts of the hospital, visiting injured friends and more recently sitting by my father's bedside. For whatever reason the place feels eerily homey.

The white-washed walls and old sesame-stone tiled floors show some wear and tear, the furniture is minimal, and the equipment is not exactly state-of-the-art. At the same time everything looks neat and orderly, with traces of disinfectant lingering in the air. What's more, the place is well-lit by the bright sunshine pouring in from large windows, their sea-blue-and-green curtains pulled all the way back. As hospitals go this one looks a bit run-down and probably operating under a tight budget, but at the same time kind of... cheerful.

The nurses' station is in the middle of the ward over to my left and beyond it there is a small seating area complete with chairs, a few small tables and a wall-mounted TV set that is currently tuned to a live soccer game. A couple of older male patients are watching it with avid interest and provide on-going commentary, while their wives, dressed in their traditional long-sleeved dark gowns and hair scarves, chat quietly with each other at their sides.

As I wheel myself slowly down the hall I catch small glimpses of other patients in their rooms, surrounded by their visitors. Doing my best to ignore my ever-present sense of loneliness I head over to the sitting area, and to the small double doors that open to the balcony. Thankfully they are sliding doors so I manage to get myself out and close them behind me, surprised at the huge relief I feel at finding myself by my own on the small porch. Lonely as I am, I can't stand the thought of idle chit-chat with strangers at the moment.

I turn my chair to face the sun and slump back a little, leaning my head against the padded head-rest and closing my eyes, letting the exposed skin in my legs and arms and neck and face soak up its warmth. It's pretty hot in fact, but a light breeze takes the edge away from the glaring sun. I focus my mind on listening to the sounds of birds chirping in the trees nearby and relax...

It is then that the tears start to slowly trickle down my cheeks. I feel so absolutely wretched that I just can't help myself.

The Shift are all enjoying their time with their own families while I sit in tormented despair. Not one of my buddies has taken the time to visit. Not one except for Jon, the only person keeping me going. Everything I have worked for over the last 20 years is gone. I have lost my job. I know nothing else but how to be a cop. I have never been unemployed before so I don't know what to do next. I still have my rent and utilities and other commitments, and while I have some money left aside from my half of the house, as well as a small inheritance, I know my savings won't last forever. I'm scared shitless to be honest.

And nobody understands.

Nobody actually understands why I want to be a cop, why I went to the Academy in the first place. It wasn't for the uniform or the power. It wasn't so I can order people about knowing they can't oppose me. It wasn't so I can arrest people or book them for minor traffic violations. It wasn't, and still isn't, an ego trip. Nothing could be further from the truth.

It is all about doing good, bringing positive impact to society, to my community. It's about helping people that are hurt, frightened, in trouble or just plain out of their depth and in need of someone to put them back on their feet again. It's what I do. It's what I LOVE doing. And I'll never have the chance to do that again.

Nobody can Imagine the satisfaction there is to be had in reuniting a lost child with their mother, seeing both their overwhelming relief. Helping reassure a badly injured and trapped person after a car crash, and letting them know that all the minor worries such as contacting their family are being taken care of. Holding the hand of an elderly person after their spouse of 50 years has passed away. Setting a young hooligan to rights and seeing him change to a path of decency from a potential life of crime. Nothing can give a greater satisfaction.

And the camaraderie. Second to none. Knowing that if your back is to the wall then all your colleagues will be racing to help you, just as you would to them. Gone and never to be experienced again. Lost forever.

Walking the streets at 4am when all are asleep safe and sound in their beds relying on me to watch out for the nefarious souls who walk the earth, wishing them harm. No More.

And now that I need help getting back on my feet, who's gonna help me? Well? Where the fuck are they?!

Nowhere to be seen. All at home with their families leaving me to flounder in a sea of grief, even if it is of my own making. Pathetic loser. I feel my shoulders shaking with my choked sobs, and am even more disgusted with myself. Crying like a pussy over the life I'd ripped apart with my bare hands.

FUCK IT ALL!

*

Suddenly I am sick of wallowing in my own melodrama.

I know I am being irrational. I know the federation will help with my doctors bills. I know Jon will still be around. And at the end of the day deep down I know that there is only one person who can sort this mess out. Me.

So with a deep long last look inside myself I grab ahold of my self pity and thrust it back where it belongs, in the gutter. I'm stronger than this. I know I am. I have proved it over and over again, time after time. And while this is a different kind of challenge than any I've faced before I know there is no other option but to face it head-on... since running from it had already been tried and failed. I straighten up in my chair and carefully shake myself out of it, and fill my lungs with the sweet warm afternoon air.

*

So , what will I do in the future? All I am trained for is coppering, and bouncers in Mothercare jobs don't often appear on the Jobs listings. What do I know how to do? What good can I bring to others if not through my service on the force? There must be something I could do to be useful in this world; something I could do that I could be proud of, even in a small way... Right?

And then it dawns on me what I could actually do.

I remember the countless times I've visited elderly couples, young single mothers, busy professionals without the time...all needing small jobs doing around the house. Shelves to be put up, flat pack furniture to be built, roofs to be cleaned, locks and lightbulbs to be changed, rooms to be painted... All jobs too small for the tradesmen, but right up my alley.

I can do this and still serve a purpose in life. Still help the people who can't help themselves.

My small police pension from being medically discharged will pay the bills, these jobs will put the food on the table. And with that my mind rushes forward, already thinking about the logistics. Advertising, set up costs, leaflet drops, area to cover, purchase and storage of tools. And while my thoughts run ahead with the plans, another part of me observes from the side.

I know that I have found my future.

For the first time in a week my mind is clear; the nausea is almost gone and the aches and pains from my injuries are nothing but small nuisance, easily ignored. My stomach rumbles and with a start I realize that I'm hungry. I pivot my wheelchair and get back inside; it's almost dinner time and I chuckle to myself thinking I am actually looking forward to the hospital food tonight.

*

"You seem better."

Jon is back at my bedside, looking at me curiously. He's wearing civilian clothes - old sweats and a worn T-shirt, to be exact - and seems like he's been working out just prior to coming in to see me, his shirt sticking to his back and his brow covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks disgustingly healthy and fit and I fight the resentment I can feel rising inside me, reaching instead for that newly-found hope in my heart and holding on to it for dear life.

"I feel better. They let me out of bed today and I spent some time outside; I think they're going to release me tomorrow."

Jon nods approvingly. "That's great to hear, man. What time do you need me to pick you up?"

I start protesting and then remember he's supposed to escort me home to get my police-issued gun and other equipment and shut up before the words leave my mouth. Jon seems to understand simply by seeing the look on my face.

"Yeah. Also I've got your key; I locked up after us when the ambulance came. So what time do you think they'll let you go?"

I wince. "I don't know for sure, but it's probably not going to be too early - I would assume an hour or so after the doctors' visit ends so sometime late morning I guess. I could ask them and call you when I have a more solid ETD."

Jon nods again. "All right. I'm working the evening shift tomorrow so have the morning pretty open; I'll keep it that way for you so that I can swing by whenever you call. Good thing my place is as close to here as it is, you won't have to sit around waiting for too long."

Man, but I'm grateful to still have Jon. "Thanks man, I really do appreciate it. All of it."

He waves his hand as if to say 'no biggie' and I reach out and grab his wrist to catch his attention. His eyes jump back up to lock with mine. "Seriously Jon. I don't know what I've done to deserve you but just so you know your being here - your support through all this... it means the world to me. I - just... Thank you." My fingers squeeze around his forearm, emphasizing my words.

Jon looks soberly back at me, his lips set in a grim line. "You've been my best friend for twenty years, Dan. Ever since the Academy. You've probably saved my life on a couple of occasions, too. What you did to Naomi... you screwed up so bad I'm not sure how you could ever make up for it, nor do I know how you're gonna pick yourself up and carry on from here. But you're my friend, and I'm not gonna simply toss you away like yesterday's newspaper."

He wraps his fingers around my own wrist, returning my squeeze so that our hands are clasped together in the kind of grip someone would give a drowning man to pull him out of the currents. I give him a crooked smile, the left side of my face still swollen quite badly though not as bad as it was yesterday.

"Thanks, mate."

He smiles faintly back at me. "You're welcome, buddy. Now get some more rest and I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Yeah, a'right. See ya, Jon." He gets up and leaves the room, and I take in a sharp breath before releasing it slowly. I haven't even had a chance to tell him about my idea. But that's okay, we have all the time in the world to discuss it. Tomorrow will be soon enough.

*

Sandra is back for the night shift. Her voice carries over to my room when she comes in and hello's her colleagues at the nurse stations. It's not that she's being loud - not at all in fact - but for some reason it seems like my ear is attuned to her frequency, snapping me to attention.

That melodic voice triggers a barrage of images in my mind - being naked and powerless in the shower while she bathes me, her hand in the latex glove gripping my cock firmly while her other hand wraps the warm, soapy washcloth around it and rubs it in a sleek, tight circular motion...

FUCK!

I feel that damned stirring again at my crotch. This is pathetic. Get a grip, officer.

I look around me frantically trying to find something else to focus on. If only I had my cell phone with me I could probably find some stupid game to play, but it's been left somewhere back at home. There's no TV in my room, no book, no magazines, nothing to distract me. Just me and my runaway thoughts.

I can't stay here like this. It'd drive me nuts. A painful chuckle follows that thought. I'm already nuts, what's the difference?

STOP.

I need to stop thinking like that. Like a loser. Think constructively.

Constructive. Yes. My new future. Becoming a handyman. Let's get back to that.

FOCUS.

I breathe deeply and exhale slowly. I need to start putting my vague thoughts and ideas to paper, make them into a proper plan. I grab and press the call button.

"Yes, Dan?" It's Sandra. She remembered I wanted her to call me Dan. Good g-- NO! Stop.

I need to clear my throat before I can speak coherently. "Ahm, I - I need some pen and papers, something to write with. Do you have anything I could use?"

"Er... Well that's a somewhat unusual request... but I'm sure I can come up with something. Give me a couple of minutes; I'll see what I can do for you."

"Yeah, sure. Thank you."

She comes into the room a few minutes later carrying a clipboard loaded with several sheets of paper neatly cut out from a notebook and a pen, and hands them over to me.

"Here you go, Dan. I'll need that clipboard and the pen back when you're done."

"Thanks, Sandra." I take the items from her hand and stare at them. The clipboard has a large psychedelic floral print on its back in different shades of bright purples and pinks, and the pen is some kind of dark lavender color.

"Too girly for you?" She smirks down at me, clearly amused at my bewildered expression.

"I - no, no that's fine. That's perfect. Thank you. I was just wondering if these were standard hospital issue, is all. It's an... interesting color scheme."

Sandra grins sheepishly at my words. "Nah, these are mine. I brought my schoolwork with me to make better use of the peace and quiet in the wee hours of the night... and pens are surprisingly hard to come by at the station; each one of us nurses holds onto her own with a passion. I find sticking with odd-colored ones useful; it makes it easier to trace them down and reclaim them."

I nod in sympathetic understanding. "Yeah I know what you mean - it can be the same for us cops, too. Never thought of that trick with the odd-colored pens though. That's smart!"

Her smile widens and lightens up her blue eyes. It transforms her face from pretty to breathtakingly beautiful. "A-ha. So you're a cop then?"

I start nodding but stop short, a painful pang in my chest, and then I surprise myself when the truth simply slips out my lips: "Yeah, well, used to be."

"Oh." She looks undecided for a moment and then adds, somewhat reluctantly: "You - you wanna talk about it?"

I shrug. "Not really, no. I mean, you know I attempted suicide. I heard you saying as much to Jon the other night..." I wave away her distressed expression. "It's all right, don't worry about it. I actually appreciate that you did; it was the right thing to do even if it wasn't exactly following protocol." She exhales her relief and I continue. "Anyways, they wouldn't let me keep my job now. Can't really trust me with a gun, you know... hence 'used to be'."

She nods softly. "Must be tough, losing your job on top of whatever it was that made you want to check out."

Her gentle understanding is almost my undoing. I refuse to accept it, and instead force out a humorless laugh as if to say 'no biggie' though we both know that's a lie. "Yeah, well. I made this mess and if there's any way out of it it's up to me to figure it out. Which is why I asked for these papers - I need to start making some plans. So thank you again for these" I gesture at the items.

Obviously sensing my reluctance to talk more about any of it she nods curtly and half-turns to leave and I feel a surprising sense of loss over her imminent departure. Grabbing for an excuse to keep her near me for another moment I blurt out:




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 02



"Hey, could you help me into the wheelchair again? I've slept so much of the day off there's no way I could go to sleep anytime soon. Maybe I could work next to one of those tables in the seating area, if that's okay with you?"

She turns back to face me and contemplates my request before shrugging and answering: "Sure, why not. Let's get you into the chair" and within a minute she's hugging my side close to help me with the now-familiar maneuver.

Damn but she feels good. And smells even better. FUCK!

I almost stumble but manage to grab the armrests just in time and land heavily on my backside in the chair. Sandra straightens up panting softly and pushes an errant strand of silky blond hair back behind her ear, her brow creased.

"Well that was a close call. Were you feeling dizzy just now?"

"No, no, I'm feeling fine, honest. Had much less dizziness and almost no nausea today at all. Just lost my concentration there for a moment, that's all." Well at least that's not a complete lie.

"Hmm. All right. Off you go then; find me or buzz me when you want to get into bed, all right?"

I snap my mouth shut to prevent the first response her words conjured in my brain from being blurted out. Instead I swallow hard and then hiss out: "Yes. Thanks Sandra. I'll do that."

The corner of her mouth curls up in a tiny smile and for a moment I wonder if she knew what I was going to say, or if in fact she meant for her words to have that tiny ring of double-meaning to them. But then she turns and leaves without saying anything further and I shake it off resolutely.

Focus, Dan.

With the stationary in my lap I wheel myself out of the room and over to the seating area and take the table at the far corner, parking myself with my back turned to the nurses' station, facing the wall. I will not let myself be distracted. I have a future to start planning, and it's time to do some work.

*

Two hours later I feel like I've dumped the entire content of my brain onto those pages. Each page is dedicated to a different aspect of this new business idea - services to be offered, necessary equipment, pricing, marketing, legal and insurance stuff... - and they are all filled with scribbles, deletions and re-writes, as well as many open questions.

It's confusing to even look at it.

I take a clean sheet of paper and copy the contents of the first page onto it, sans the mess. When I'm done I take another critical look at it and smile. Now that's better. I can work with that.

I spend another thirty minutes doing the same with the other five topic pages, and sigh with real satisfaction when I'm done. It's a good basis to work off of, and at the same time it is already clear I will need some professional guidance in setting up this business. I'll look into some options when I'm back home; maybe there are online courses or some other public resources I could use.

I know it's a huge task, and it is kind of daunting to be honest. And I also know this is exactly what I need: A real challenge will keep me focused.

Focus is good.

I lean back in the wheelchair and raise both my arms up above my head for a long, if careful, stretch. It feels great to fill my lungs with air so fully, until suddenly it's too much for my bruised ribs and a sharp pain slices through me. The pain makes me drop my arms and slouch forward and pant shallowly through it, and the sharp movement in turns makes my head spin and I grab the table as nausea rises for the umpteenth time... URGH!

"Shh... Breathe, Dan. Relax back and breathe in and out."

Sandra is at my side, one hand on my shoulder, the other on my forearm, crouching down so that her eyes look straight into my face, monitoring me closely. I make a conscious effort to follow her instructions and lean back in my chair bringing my attention to my breathing. It does the trick; in a few moments the room stops spinning around me and the pain in my torso subsides to that ever-present dull ache I'd already gotten used to.

"Better?" She asks carefully still searching my face, and I push down my frustration and grind my teeth together before relaxing them, too, and finally turn to face her.

"Yeah, just overdid that stretch a bit... I'm fine now."

Her fingers squeeze my shoulder and forearm in silent answer before she stands up and takes a small step back, and then to my surprise takes the seat next to me at the table, turning her chair in an angle so that she's facing me, leaning with one elbow against the table top.

"So, what have you been up to the last couple of hours? You seemed so engulfed in your work, I didn't want to interrupt before."

I look questioningly at her. "You wanted to speak to me before? Why?"

She drops her eyes and shrugs as a faint blush colors her cheeks before she looks up to meet my eyes again. "Well... because... I... because night shifts sometimes feel neverending and it helps having someone nice to chat with, to pass the time."

"Ouch."

"What?!"

"You make me sound like an 80-year-old, slightly senile gentleman." My lips twitch when I say it, taking away the sting from the accusation. She answers with an exasperated little laugh.

"C'mon! That's not what I meant at all, and you know it!"

"What did you mean then?" I ask, keeping my voice neutral. Don't get your hopes high.

"I meant... I meant I kinda like you, all right?"

My eyebrows shoot up at her almost pissed-off tone, and at the same time I feel the warm pleasure spread in my chest at those words. I relax back in my wheelchair, a real smile now spread on my face. Or on half of it, anyways.

"Yeah. That's actually way better. Truth is I kinda like you too... I was just teasing. Chatting sounds... good. Real good." She visibly relaxes next to me, and then straightens up again.

"Hey, you want some coffee or tea or anything? I've got a small stash of cookies, too. Homemade chocolate-chips. Wanna share?" She looks at me eagerly. There's no way I could disappoint her by saying no, and besides homemade cookies sound way too good to pass.

"Sure, I'd love some. I gotta admit I really like that sweet black tea that comes with the meals... and I'd never say no to real cookies. Yes, please."

"Great! I'll be back in a moment, stay here."

She almost jumps out of her chair although even her sharp movements look well-coordinated. She walks over to what I assume is the staff room/kitchenette at the end of the hall - right across from my own room, actually - and my eyes follow her all the way there, enjoying the sweet sway of her lovely behind and the smoothness of her quick strides. A girl on a mission. I chuckle at the thought.

Sandra disappears into the staff room, and without thinking about it I release the brakes on my chair and start rolling after her towards the end of the hall. Half way through I remember she told me to "stay here" and pause for a moment, then almost laugh out loud when I give the wheels another determined shove.

Yeah. That's not gonna happen.

I reach the open doorway and stop there, peering inside. She's pouring boiling-hot water from the kettle into a clear pitcher of sorts - I think it's plastic, but not sure - where a couple of tea bags are floating. She's humming a tune to herself - it takes me a moment to recognize Bruno Mars's Today I feel like not doing anything and she's bouncing and swaying gently in time to the laid-back, funky reggae beat, oblivious to my presence.

I can do nothing but stare. And listen. Her voice is beautiful, but I soon lose track of that thought as I become too distracted by the suggestive dancing accompanying the quirky lyrics... "Uh, I'm gonna kick my feet up then stare at the fan / Turn the TV on, throw my hand in my pants / Nobody's gon' tell me I can't" I just barely choke my cough when her hand actually goes into her her white nurse's pants and I swear I can see her giving herself a couple of fond rubs right there before pulling out again.

Shit. My dick is twitching again.

Sandra keeps singing and bouncing while reaching for a small plastic box on the top shelf. The movement raises her shirt and I get a quick glimpse of her smooth, golden-hued skin just above the elastic band at her hips. Again I swallow my groan; I don't want her to know that I'm here just yet. I'm enjoying the show waaaay too much for that.

"Oh yes, I said it I said it, I said it 'cause I can / Today I don't feel like doing anything / I just wanna lay in my bed / Don't feel like picking up my phone, so leave a message at the tone / 'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything / Nothing at all, woo-hoo, woo-hoo, hooooo, nothing at all"

She bends down to get a tray from the lower cupboard and stays there for much longer than necessary, twerking enthusiastically with her sweet tush sticking out against the thin white cotton, displaying its perfectly spankable shape in all its glory right in my face, not three feet away. I am practically salivating. I can see her panty line - a simple bikini-style coming down at an angle slicing her round ass cheek exactly in half.

Man this is torture. My fingers tighten on the armrests as I fight to keep myself from moving or saying anything.

The tray is up on the counter with the pitcher, the cookies and two tea cups laid out on it, but instead of picking it up she takes a tiny step back and now dances properly as she sings and I can only imagine she's rehashing the choreography from the video clip because there's no way a woman would spontaneously dance like that.

"Tomorrow I'll wake up, do some P90X / Find a really nice girl, have some really nice sex"

Her movements shift from mock-weightlifting to mock-doggy-style-fucking to throwing her hands and head up and out and just barely keeping her voice from carrying over to the sleeping patients' rooms:

"And she's gonna scream out / This is great! / Oh my god, this is great!!!"

I can't help my pained groan from spilling out of my chest this time and she swivels so fast I'm afraid she'd fall on her face. She has such a comical expression on it that I burst out laughing, at the same time clapping hard to show her my heart-felt appreciation of her impromptu performance.

Sandra blushes a pretty shade of bright pink but there's a smile on her face too, and she winks at me and bows deeply before straightening up and leaning back against the counter, laughing along with me.

When her giggles subside and I too catch my breath, I wheel myself closer to her.

"Well, that just made my evening. You've got a real talent there lady!"

She shrugs and chuckles again self-consciously. "For embarrassing myself you mean? Yeah, I know. Been working on this one for years."

"No! You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. You have a beautiful voice and a gorgeous body and the way you move..." I cut myself short before I complete that thought out loud.

It makes me wanna do all kind of things to you to make you scream 'oh my God this is great!'.

"Ahm. You sure can dance, Sandra." I finish a bit lamely, but by the look on her face I might just as well have spoken my real thoughts. Her mouth is slightly open to allow for her quickened breath, the blush on her cheeks has deepened and spread to her neck and down the V at her chest and her eyes seem to have turned a darker shade of blue. She knows what I was going to say, and if I'm not missing my cues here completely, that knowledge just served to turn her on, too.

We stare at each other, neither one of us moving, until she coughs and turns her back at me and replies with a belated "ahm, thanks..."over her shoulder while reaching back to pick up the tray. Mutely I shuffle back in my chair and wheel myself to the side, clearing the way for her. Sandra still doesn't meet my eyes as she carries the tea and cookies back to the seating area while I follow a few strides behind her, trying hard not to feel like an idiot.

Way to go, cowboy.

We're back at the table and Sandra pours our teas and places the cookies between us. I watch her hands as she does it. She has good hands, feminine and no-nonsense at the same time: Slender, competent fingers, soft-looking skin, neatly trimmed fingernails with no polish. I can't help but imagine these hands directly on my body, touching me without the latex or the washcloths barriers between us.

Damn! Down, boy.

I watch her hands as if transfixed and follow their movements all the way into her lap where she folds them in a somewhat protective gesture.

Great. Now I'm making her uncomfortable. I realize I've been too quiet, too long. Clearing my throat I mumble "thanks Sandra" and manage a crooked smile, and am relieved to see her hands leave her midriff to wrap around her teacup and raise it to her lips, blowing gently before taking a small sip.

Oh shit. Her lips. Her lush, pink lips. In a perfect little O. Blowing. Tasting. Tongue sneaking out for a moment to lick away a drop. FUCK!

Hastily I drop my gaze to my own cup and bring it up to my mouth and try to blow into it to cool it down before realizing I can't; not with the sutures still decorating my left side. I lower the cup carefully back onto the table.

"Oh shoot, I'm sorry Dan I wasn't thinking... let me go fetch a straw for you."

She's already up on her feet and walking away before I can say anything. A minute later she's back and hands me the straw.

"There you go."

I take it with a smile that looks like a grimace. Or maybe it's the other way around. Not sure. I can't stand the awkwardness between us. She must be regretting her offer of tea and cookies already. I suddenly become aware of how completely out of practice I am in my social skills. I haven't really dated anyone since my divorce, and my rustiness sure shows.

There were a few times in the early months after separating from Naomi when I went out with some of the younger guys from the Shift to single bars and simply allowed myself to be picked up by a random lonely lady who was looking, like me, for a warm body to spend the night with. The experiences ranged from 'kinda nice' at best to 'depressingly mechanical' at worst, and soon I gave up on those too, resolving myself to my own company until 'the time was right'.

But that time never came. Soon my father became ill and then died some months later and I had spiraled down. Losing my libido didn't even bother me, to be honest. It was almost a relief, not having to worry about it. In the few times I'd thought about it I had actually convinced myself it was a good thing not to feel the urge for sex. Kept my life simple. Less complicated.

God, what a pathetic loser!

"Dan...? You okay?"

With a start I'm brought back to the present from my inner reverie and my eyes clash back with Sandra's worried, searching gaze. I feel myself flush red.

"Yeah. Sorry. Got too deep into my head there for a moment. It's a bad habit of late... Thanks for snapping me out of it."

I give her an apologetic half-smile and thankfully her face clears and gentles into a sweet smile of her own.

"Anytime, Dan. So, wanna tell me about your idea?"

I take a deep breath and re-focus on the neat stack of papers laying there at the far end of the table, waiting for me to make those ideas into a reality.

"Well, I've been thinking about my career options, since it's a good bet I'm going to lose my job on the Force soon. I have no real training or education outside of police work, but then I figured I've always been good with light maintenance stuff. You know all those odd jobs that need to be done at home... Anyways, that's my plan. To become a handyman. Fix and build stuff for people who can't do it themselves."

I've been looking mostly at my plans as I was speaking, but now I risk a glance at her face. There's an odd expression there; a soft smile on her lips and a wrinkle on her forehead. I can't read it. I brave asking her straight up:

"What do you think?"

Her furrowed brow relaxes and her smile widens and she reaches out and squeeze one of my hands in hers. I skip a beat at the contact. It's as soft as I'd imagined. I watch her lips move and need to focus hard to catch her words while my body reacts with crazy disproportion to her innocent touch.

"I think that's awesome, Dan. Really. For one, it sounds like something you not only know how to do but also something that you really like doing. You know, they say the trick to loving your job is making it your job to do what you love, right?" Barely pausing long enough for me to nod she continues with a cheeky tone - "And besides, every girl loves a man who's good with his hands..."

I am leaning comfortably forward, my forearms resting on the table and my fingers playing idly with my papers. Her gaze drops to caress down my arms to my wrists and over the back of my hands all the way to the tips of my fingers and I feel it so acutely I cannot help my response, my fingers flexing and then balling into fists on top of the table before I can stop them.

God dammit, what is it about this woman that her mere glance gets under my skin?!

With a conscious effort I relax my hands and sit back in my wheelchair, rubbing my now-damp palms lightly up and down my cotton-covered thighs before crossing them loosely on my chest, hoping to come across as relaxed rather than defensive.

Belatedly her words sink in - 'every girl loves a man who's good with his hands...' and my eyes shoot up to meet hers. Her cheeky expression had softened and she's looking at me with amused bewilderment, her head tilted to one side.

"You're not as big of a flirt as I thought you were, are you, Dan? I was totally expecting you to be all over this one, and yet..." She stops and then her eyes drop again to look at my left hand that is tucked under my right bicep before looking up again. "am I being out of line here?"

A short, surprised laugh escapes me and I lean forward and I slide my left hand under hers, squeezing her palm lightly. The urge to caress her knuckles is way too hard to resist but I manage to limit myself to just barely whisper my thumb across them. Her fingers twitch a little under my touch, but she doesn't withdraw her hand.

I'll take that as a good sign.

Our eyes meet again and our hands are still connected when I answer: "Well, I've been married for a decade and divorced for the past couple of years but hadn't really dated or anything. So no, you're absolutely not out of line - I guess I'm just totally out of practice with the whole flirting bit."

And then I add quickly before I lose my courage - "Maybe you could help me with that?"

Her eyes widen with her surprise but then she bursts out laughing while shaking her head at me.

"Man oh man... if this is you out of practice I can't wait to see what you come up with after you've brushed up your skills!" She slips her hand out of mine to playfully fan herself for dramatic emphasis and I reluctantly withdraw mine as well and lean back once more, smiling broadly at her.

"Why thank you, my fair lady. I'll take that as a compliment."

She chuckles again, mimicking my movement by leaning back comfortably in her own chair. "Oh, and so you should, Dan. So you should. Now c'mon, let's drink our tea while it's perfectly tepid, just the way you like it!"

I mock-groan but don't argue as I reach for my straw and take a good slurp of my tea. Delicious. We both reach for the cookies at the same time and our fingers brush again, and the way we both suck in our breath is so comical we both burst out laughing once more.

I gesture for her to go ahead and then pick up my cookie in turn. She waits for me to take the first bite, obviously looking forward to my reaction. I break a bite-sized piece. The texture is rich and a little moist on the inside and I smile my relief up to her eyes as I pop it into my mouth and start chewing carefully. The cookie crumbles and melts onto my tongue and I close my eyes and moan my pleasure when the chocolaty, buttery goodness wraps around my senses.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 02



"God, this is heaven."

Sandra practically beams at me and takes a hearty bite of her own cookie, nodding her head. "Hmm-hmm" and then adds before popping the rest of it into her mouth - "I must agree, even if I say so myself!"

I smile as we both continue to munch on our cookies and sip our teas. This time I'm quicker to identify the point where companionable silence becomes slightly awkward and giving myself a small mental kick I clean my throat and speak up:

"So, you said you were going to school, too?"

Sandra looks startled before remembering when she mentioned it earlier. "Yeah. I'm working towards my BSN." Seeing my baffled look she is quick to clarify: "I am already a licensed RN - Registered Nurse - but now I'm studying to get my Bachelor of Science in Nursing diploma."

"Hmm. May I ask - what for? I mean what would having a BSN diploma give you that you cannot already do with your RN license?"

Belatedly I realize it may have sounded condescending which is not at all the way I feel about it. I'm simply curious. But she takes it in stride and thinks about it for a moment before answering.

"For one, it is a full college degree which means a 'real' academic education as opposed to a professional license. For some reason that matters to me; maybe because my parents' less than enthusiastic reaction to my hands-on professional choice... they've always expected us kids to get a college degree, so finally at the ripe old age of 30 I'm actually going to do that." She shrugs and smiles faintly, her words colored with a slight ring of irony.

"Also, a BSN degree would allow me to specialize in different areas of expertise that aren't open for any RN, as well as advancement to management position if I ever wanted one."

"Ah. Interesting. I guess it's similar in a way to the way some other public servants must get their academic degrees to get to the higher-up positions within the ranks."

"Yeap." She nods but says nothing else, looking down at her hands.

"So your parents are still alive? Got siblings, too?"

She looks up and smiles, her eyes and voice growing soft when she thinks about her family. "Oh yes. My folks are both retired now and live right here in town, as do both my brother and sister and their families - both are married with kids, my brother's got three already, and my kid sister just had her first baby. I'm very lucky to have them all so close, even if it does get a touch suffocating at times..."

I'm intrigued. I have zero experience with that, being an only child myself. "How so?"

"Well, first of all we have these Saturday Family Lunches which are pretty much obligatory, and although I love these huge family gatherings around a table heaped with great food it's sometimes hard... especially with me being 30 and still single. They try not to be too obvious about it but man, my mom and dad wouldn't know 'subtle' if it hit them in the face!"

She chuckles at that but beneath the fondness I can hear some frustration in her voice, too.

"Hmm... well excuse my being maybe a touch too personal but I've gotta ask: How come you're still single?"

Her eyes widen and rise up to tangle with mine and for a moment she seems at a loss for words, and then the ironic little smile is back on her lips and she answers softly: "Maybe I'm not that big of a catch".

Now it's my turn to be startled at her words, and my voice comes out squeakily incredulous. "Are you fucking kidding me?! I mean, seriously... You're smart, and caring, and hard-working and you can dance and sing and bake some mean chocolate-chips cookies and you come in the sexiest little package I've seen in years..." I stop abruptly as I catch her shocked expression.

I feel my face heat up all the way to my ears. Man but I sound like a lovesick puppy. Hastily I try to back-peddle some of it by aiming for humor: "...and you sure can fish for compliments, can't you, young lady?!"

She bursts out laughing and I exhale my relief and join her laughter. "Oh man... I'll admit I was trying to get you to say something nice to me but I never expected THAT! Wow. Can I get this on record and play it back to my folks next Saturday? Pleeaaassse?" Her voice is teasingly pleading and she's batting her eyelashes at me exaggeratedly.

I'm at once glad and disappointed at her not taking my professed admiration seriously. But I take her cue and answer lightly: "Of course, ma'am. Glad to be of service anytime."

She laughs even harder at that. "Oh my GAWD just don't call me ma'am on tape! That would confirm their opinion that I'm in fact an old spinster!"

I half-grin widely. "So how would you have me call you then? Miss? Mademoiselle?"

She seems to give this question more than it's due thought and when she looks back straight at me there's a peculiar blush on her cheeks. She bites her lower lip before speaking a little hesitantly, but still holding my gaze steadily. "Well truth is I'm kind of partial to being called 'little girl' but not sure my folks would appreciate that... so maybe we should stick with 'young lady' for this audience."

Well, DAMN. So she likes being called a 'little girl', huh?!

I cannot help the images that rush to mind at her admission. The very graphic, very obscene images crowd my head, all featuring this very lovely woman in various degrees of undress from a classic slutty schoolgirl outfit, her hair in pigtails... Her baby-blue eyes looking up at me asking me if she's being a good little girl for me while lovingly kissing and licking the swollen head of my dick before taking it deep into her soft, wet mouth...

I feel my cock swell and rise from my groin and suddenly I am acutely aware of just how naked I really am under this ridiculously flimsy hospital gown. I'm sure there's an obvious tent in my lap at this point - I dare not look, but I know it's there nonetheless - and couldn't be more grateful for the corner of the table separating us.

I gulp a couple of times trying to get my suddenly very dry throat to work. My voice comes out half-choked when I finally manage to speak.

"Yeah. It's probably better we stick with that then..." Shit. Get a grip Dan. Keep the conversation going. "Ahm, seriously though, Sandra - how come you're still single? Was there no one to sweep you off your feet?"

She smiles brilliantly at me. "Thank you!"

I'm confused. "What for?"

"For assuming it wasn't because there was something wrong with me." Her smile fades away into exasperation as she says that. "It seems once I've turned 30 - or actually 25 if you ask my parents - I've lost the right to 'pick and choose', to use my mom's favorite phrase. I'm supposed to just be grateful if there's anyone who's still interested in me, and to do everything in my power to get hitched and start having babies as soon as possible, else I'd 'miss the boat completely'."

She's not looking at me anymore, rather her eyes are downcast, watching her own fingers wringing together nervously on top of the table. I'm not sure how to respond to that and after a heartbeat she continues, her eyes now meeting mine.

"It's not that I don't want it, you know? Of course I do. I want a husband and a family just like I imagine most women do. Like my folks and my brother and sister have. But..."

She stops short and shuts her mouth looking a bit scared. Instinctively I reach out and take her hand in mine, squeezing it in reassurance.

"C'mon, Sandra. But what? You can tell me. I promise not to judge. I'd just really like to know."

She looks at me closely, searching my eyes, and asks: "Why?"

I hesitate for a moment and then think what the heck and answer honestly:

"Because I kinda like you, too, remember? And because I like listening to your voice when you talk. And because you've been kind and caring towards me, and I'd really like to return the favor if I can. So if you think having someone listen to you - just listen, no judgement - could possibly help, then I'd really, really like to be that someone."

She's silent for a long moment and I'm pretty sure she's thinking of polite ways to say 'thanks, but no thanks' when she nods slowly and then takes a deep breath as if working up her courage before looking me in the eye and speaking with a slight tremor to her voice.

"Well... as I said, I do want a husband and children. But the things I'm looking for in a man... I just haven't found anyone yet who feels right. And I'm afraid it's because what I'm looking for is an impossibility. A contradiction in terms. I'm afraid there simply isn't anyone like that out there... ARGH!" Suddenly she bends down all the way to rest her forehead on top of the table, knocking it there gently several times in obvious frustration.

"Hey, hey! Stop that Sandra." She ignores my request and keeps banging her forehead against the table.

"Sandra, stop right now."

My voice is now soft but stern. It's my Dom voice, although I've switched to it purely out of instinct, not from any conscious decision. Nonetheless it has the desired impact - Sandra freezes for a moment and straightens up slowly until finally, reluctantly, she meets my eyes. She looks a little shocked - undoubtedly due of my swift change of demeanor - and at the same time remains still and silent while she waits for my next words.

"Tell me."

She opens her mouth but no words come out and after a couple of false starts gives up and closes it, focusing instead on her fingers fidgeting on the table. I reach out and take her hand in mine once more.

"Look at me, Sandra."

I gentle my tone a fraction, but still keep it an instruction rather than a request. At the same time I glide my thumb slowly and soothingly over her knuckles as if petting a scared kitten. Her skin is as soft as the baby animal's fur. Her eyes slide back up to lock with mine and I feel her fingers twitch in what I guess is her nervousness.

"Thank you." My acknowledgement of her obedience slips effortlessly out of my mouth. It's like getting back into the rhythm of an old, familiar dance, enjoyable and comforting. Sandra still sits passively before me, waiting for me to lead her. I oblige.

"Tell me what you're looking for, Sandra. Tell me why you think it's impossible to find."

I know she'll speak to me now. I can already see it in her eyes, in the way she leans forward a little towards me, and in the way her fingers burrow more deeply into my much bigger hand, seeking my warmth and my strength to give her courage. She starts talking in an almost inaudible voice and I lean forward so that our cheeks are almost touching. I can feel the heat emanating from her skin; I can smell her sweet hair. Resolutely, I focus my attention on her words, her hand still held securely in my palm.

"I... I'm looking for a man who - who would not only love me, but would appreciate and respect me. A man who would be my true life partner. I want - I want someone who'd always be on my side, someone I would be able to trust implicitly and without any reservations." She swallows hard as I nod, and then she continues.

"And at the same time... I need that man to -" another pause and then she plunges forward. "I need that man to dominate me, too. In the b-bedroom, I mean. I need someone who would unapologetically take charge."

She stops and sucks in her breath, holding it inside her chest, waiting for my response. I don't say anything, just keep holding her hand in mine and give her another small nod with my head, indicating that she should continue.

Her face has grown a fiery shade of pink but she doesn't back down. I admire her resolution as she composes herself enough to finish her little speech.

"And the problem is there don't seem to be any such men in reality. The good guys don't show any interest in dominating me sexually, and the few dominant guys I've had the misfortune of associating with... well it seems as if they're all just a big bunch of assholes, to be honest. Happy to spank me and fuck me but couldn't care less otherwise. ARGH!"

Sandra pulls her hands from mine and waves both in the air in front of her face, spreading her fingers wide and then balling them into tight fists as if she's ready to punch something. But a moment later the fight evaporates and her hands drop limply back to her lap, her shoulders slumped forward in defeat, her eyes downcast as she shakes her head slowly from side to side. It looks like she's about to cry.

While one part of my mind is swamped in a flash-flood of desire at her admission of needing a man who would sexually dominate her, another part is torn by her obvious emotional distress, and I feel an all-consuming urge to simply hug her and to take her pain away.

Without thinking I wheel myself over to her side, the back of my chair against the table. She raises her head in question and then gasps her surprise as I open my arms wide, wordlessly offering her the comfort she so obviously needs. She debates it in her mind for a quick moment before her whole body relaxes as she scoots forward in her chair and leans towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck and burrowing her face into the crook between my neck and my right shoulder.

My own arms come down to circle her back and I hold her snugly to me. She sighs and whimpers and presses closer. Her softness and her sweet smell surround me and I soak up her closeness, her womanliness in my arms. I fight myself to ignore the painful arousal in my loins and simply give her the comfort she needs at the moment, and am grateful for the armrest of my wheelchair which keeps the lower parts of our bodies well-separated.

After another minute, however, Sandra pulls back with a small wince. I let my arms drop to my sides as soon as I feel her straighten up though it takes everything in me to do so. I know it's going to get uncomfortable between us and start thinking of what to say to her, but before I can form any words Sandra speaks up, a small smile now hovering on her lips.

"So you're not grossed out?"

"What? No! Of course I'm not. Why would you say that?"

"Because you're a good guy. In my experience good guys get grossed out when they learn of my... kinks."

"Yeah well... goes to show you then, I'm not much of a good guy." I was smiling when I started saying it, but hearing my own words hits hard, and it ends up as a grim statement of a fact.

Sandra looks just as somberly back at me. "I think you're a much better guy than you give yourself credit for, Dan."

I shrug her words off, not wanting to go there right now. "I wish I were, Sandra."

"You are." She insists.

Oh Sandra. If only you knew.

My stomach churns painfully. I know the right thing to do is to tell her the truth, right here, right now. Use this opportunity to set the record straight, to tell her why I am not, in fact, one of the good guys. Why 'an asshole' doesn't even begin to describe what an utter lowlife I really am.

But I can't bring myself to do it.

It feels so good having someone - a woman - to speak to, to flirt with, to hold... to fantasize about, with that tiny hope that maybe, just maybe, these dreams could possibly come true. I know that if I tell her the truth of what drove me to attempt suicide, if I tell her about Naomi and how I attacked her, Sandra would do the right thing and run as fast and as far as she can away from me. She's a smart lady. She wouldn't stick around to find herself at the receiving end of that.

So I keep my mouth shut. Pathetic loser.

Sandra looks at me with her brows furrowed once more. "What's wrong, Dan?"

I need to get outta here.

"Nothing. I'm just tired all of a sudden. Thanks for the cookies, Sandra. Have a good night, all right?"

I start rolling away when her voice stops me.

"Er, Dan?"

I stop but don't turn around to look at her. "What?"

"You'll need my help to get into bed. And it's probably a good idea for you to go to the bathroom before you go to sleep, too." Her voice is neutrally professional again; not unfriendly exactly, but showing no trace of the warmth and intimacy we shared mere minutes ago. The loss tears at my gut.

"Fine." I hiss through gritted teeth.

Man, I can't wait to get outta here. Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

*

Author's note: Did you like this story? Please VOTE, FAVORITE and above all - COMMENT!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 03



Author's note: 

Thank you all for the lovely feedback on chapter two. I hope you enjoy this one even better as things are slowly heating up... 

If you're new to this series - welcome! It would be easier to follow if you start at the beginning. 

As always, a huge thank you to my co-creator and editor, the outrageously handsome Brit! :) 

xoxo 

small_town_girl 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dan: 

I wake up on Monday morning when a nurse I haven't met yet comes in with my breakfast tray. It's almost 8am and I feel a momentary pang of disappointment over missing Sandra before she went home at the end of her night shift, and I wonder if she'd avoided waking me up on purpose. 

Last night had ended with an uncomfortable silence. Sandra helped me to the bathroom by supporting me to a stand and averted her eyes as I relieved myself, and then helped me back down into the wheelchair and waited outside the small bathroom as I washed my hands and brushed my teeth while trying to spare unnecessary pain from my still-sutured lips. In all honesty I felt like I could probably manage doing it standing on my own two feet as well as walking back to my bed, but it was quicker to simply agree than get into a futile argument. 

I wheeled myself over to the bed and let Sandra maneuver me up onto it. Once I was settled she gave me a short, pursed-lips look before she turned and left without a word, clicking the lights off on her way out. 

The whole time I was keeping my mouth shut, silently berating myself for even entertaining the fantasy of having anything to do with Sandra beyond the nurse-patient relationship. What was I thinking? 

The truth is that I wasn't thinking. In the quiet intimacy of the night shift I just let myself enjoy that unexpected comfort of... Attraction? Companionship? Human connection? Whatever it was, it was something I hadn't felt in a long, long time. And it felt so good that I let myself ignore the truth which now, in the bright glare of the morning sun, stares me harshly in the face. 

I can't be doing this. It's way, way too much of a risk. 

As much as I'd like to push my attack on Naomi out of my mind, as surreal as the whole episode feels to me, I cannot pretend it never happened. It wasn't just a bad dream. I know what I did only a few days ago. I know what I would have done had I not been thwarted at the last moment. And while I don't have any violent thoughts right now towards anyone, myself included, I can't trust myself not to go crazy again... especially where a woman is involved. 

That's it then. 

Resolutely I push the whole subject to the back of my mind and with grim concentration turn to the immediate tasks at hand: Eat my breakfast. Get up to a stand, see that I don't fall down on my face. Good. Walk the few steps over to the bathroom unaided, grab the doorframe, breathe through the pain. Yes. Walk over to the toilet, seat myself using the handrails. Got it. Do my business. Done. Reach out for my toothbrush and toothpaste and brush while still seated on the toilet. Get up only when needing to rinse. Hold on tight to the sink and wait for the dizziness caused by bending over to pass. Okay, I can do this. Wash my face carefully using the washcloth on my colorful, swollen left side. Look myself in the eye and repeat after me: Focus, Dan. 

Focus, Dan. 

The face in the mirror looking soberly back at me is vaguely familiar. The heavy bruises and the stitches and the week-old beard do little to hide the hollowness of my cheeks which betrays the weight I'd lost. The lines on my forehead and around my mouth and eyes have deepened. I look old and battered, but also more alert and determined than I've been in a couple of years. I'm ready to face my life again. 

Taking a deep breath I push myself slowly upright and walk back to my bed, sit down, and then lie back against the pillow. God help me but I need to rest after this little exercise I just pulled. With a mental shrug I close my eyes. It is what it is. At least I've accomplished something this morning. 

* 

I wake up when the doctors' visit finally arrives at my room. Being the last one at the end of the hall means it's well past ten by the time they reach me, and I feel well-rested and sharp. I prop myself up against the headrest and for the first time really pay attention to the conversation at my bedside. 

"Mr. Moreno, a 41-year-old man, was brought in by ambulance 4 nights ago after sustaining a moderate head trauma caused by a fall... he also suffered a cracked rib and a split lip sustained in a brawl that preceded his fall... ER's blood toxins scan showed elevated level of alcohol and dangerous overdose of paracetamol combined with several other OTC drugs... stomach pumped, face sutured and head and rib-cage bandaged in the ER before being admitted here in the Neurological ward for observation. Has been suffering from headaches, dizziness and nausea but showing satisfactory improvement over the last couple of days." 

The young doctor finishes his brief and looks up to the small group, his eyes seeking those of the obvious leader of the pack, an older doctor, tall and slim, her grey hair pinned back at her neck in a nonchalant style. At her slight nod he turns back to face me. 

"How are you doing today, Dan?" 

"I'm much better, doc. Ready to go home." 

The young doctor smiles. "I'm sure you're sick of all of us by now, but let's check you out first, shall we?" He starts the by-now-familiar routine of checking my reflexes, my balance and my orientation in space by asking me to perform a range of bizarre tasks, like stand up straight with my arms stretched out to the sides, close my eyes and then bring my index finger to touch the tip of my nose. I feel less ridiculous than I did the first time they asked me to do this, and am struck at my own obvious improvement. 

"Very good Dan. You're doing well indeed. We'll just need you to speak with Dr. Pappas again before we make a decision on your release." 

Ah. Of course. I'm the suicidal nut-case for them. Pathetic loser. 

I nod my understanding, not trusting myself to speak. The young doctor's face softens and he lowers his voice as he mumbles to me, "You'll be alright, Dan. These things happen." 

I nod again, and breathe out my relief when the small group of doctors takes its leave. Yeah, these things happen. But I never thought they'd happen to me. 

* 

"Hello Dan. I'm very glad to see you again." 

Dr. Pappas actually does seem happy to see me. There's a small but genuine smile on his thin face. 

"Why?" All right, that came out a little grumpier than it should have. I mentally shrug. Dr. Pappas' smile widens. 

"Ah. Still not in the shiniest of moods eh? Well I'm glad to see you because it means you have not killed yourself since our last chat. In my line of work that's not unheard of, you know." 

Despite myself I feel an almost-smile twitching my mouth in response to his dry sarcasm. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm glad I didn't kill myself, either." I surprise myself saying it out loud, but it's true nonetheless. 

"Good! Wanna tell me why?" 

"Well I - yesterday was a good day, I guess. I feel like I've turned a corner in a way." 

"Hmm. How so?" 

"I, er..." Damn. I almost blurted 'I met this girl'... Focus, Dan. "Well I figured out what I was going to do with my life. Job-wise, I mean. Since I know they won't keep me on the force." 

"Ah. Sounds intriguing. Care to share?" His eyes light up and he leans forward like he really is interested. He's good, I gotta hand it to him. 

"Sure, yeah, I mean..." Shit, I'm nervous about it. Why wasn't I nervous last night with Sandra? 

Balling my fists I straighten up and push through. "I'm planning on becoming a handyman. Light maintenance, assembling flat-pack furniture, that kind of stuff. I've always been good with that sort of thing, I figure I can make a living off of it if I really applied myself." I stop short and wait for Dr. Pappas' response, trying to hide how anxious I feel about it. 

Dr. Pappas smiles reassuringly. "Good, good! Any immediate steps once you're out of the hospital?" 

I describe the first few actions I'm planning to take and Dr. Pappas nods his satisfaction. 

"All right, Dan. As far as I'm concerned you're good to go home. Also, I wanted to let you know that your friend - Jon? - he contacted me earlier this morning and asked some specific questions regarding your insurance. I didn't realize you were a cop - I am actually on the approved psychiatrists list on the Federations' insurance policy, so if you'd like to keep seeing me for your ongoing treatment that could actually work well." 

At first I am taken aback and more than a little pissed off, both at Jon's meddling behind my back as well as Dr. Pappas' blunt push to secure me as a long-term paying patient. And at the same time I'm grateful to learn that the treatment I sorely need would not drain me financially, and to have one less task to worry about when I get home. I exhale slowly to rid myself of my annoyance, and meet Dr. Pappas' knowing eyes. 

"Thank you doc. I appreciate it and I'd very much like to start seeing you on a regular basis once I'm out." 

The shrink smiles. "Good! What's your number? I'll have my office call you to schedule your first few appointments. I'd recommend starting out with more frequent visits - twice a week would be good - and then we'll space them out to the customary weekly appointments. Would that work for you?" 

I nod, trying to keep up with the quick gear-shifting. "Yeah, sure. I guess I'm going to be pretty open these days... here, give me your phone and I'll type in my number for you." 

Dr. Pappas hands me his phone and I input my number, my mind still reeling a bit. I'd never been through therapy; Naomi wanted us to get couples' counseling when we were going through the hardships of fertility treatments but I refused. I argued adding even more doctors appointments to our already crazy treatment schedule was simply not doable. Truth was, as I guess it usually is when avoiding therapy, that I didn't want to 'go there', to face everything such counseling could bring up. 

Now, however, I painfully recognize how badly I need it. And although twice-weekly shrink sessions sound overwhelmingly exhausting, my philosophy towards any must-do task had always been to 'just do it'. God knows I have my work cut out for me; might as well stack it up and plow through as diligently as I can. After all, fixing this - fixing me - is the basis for everything else. I get that. 

"There you go. I'll be waiting for that call from your office." 

I hand the phone back to Dr. Pappas and he takes it with a satisfied nod. "Good. I'll see you in a few days then. And again, if you have any suicidal thoughts, or if you feel you need to speak - please call my cell, anytime. You've got my card. All right?" 

"Yes, sir. I'll do that." 

With another quick smile and a fatherly pat on my hand Dr. Pappas gets up and leaves, and I follow him with my eyes all the way out. I sure hope this works out. 

* 

Jon arrives 20 minutes after I call him. He hands me a bundle of clean clothes - jeans and a polo shirt, as well as boxers and socks, and my sneakers. Ah yes. I was in my sweats and T-shirt when he showed up and beat me into a pulp. I mumble my thanks to him and make my way to the bathroom, refusing his assistance. I can dress myself, dammit, even if I need to do it sitting down on the toilet seat. 

A few minutes later we're making our way out, me still in the wheelchair, an envelope with my patient discharge papers in my lap, Jon striding at my side. 

"Give me a minute, I'll bring the car around." 

Jon leaves me at the main entrance to the hospital without really waiting for my reply, knowing full well I'd have tried to argue my way into walking over to the car park with him. He's right not to let me but that doesn't mean I can't resent it. I just barely refrain from cursing at his back. 

In another couple of minutes we're threading our way through the light midday traffic heading over to my place. I feel myself growing tenser by the moment and try to figure it out in my head. I guess part of it has something to do with the place itself, facing the gory mess, the work I'm going to have to put in to clean it up that would unfortunately have to wait until I'm better healed. Which means I'll need to go back to living in the midst of my own filth for a while longer. 

But the truth is there's more there for me to face than the mess. There's my desk where I sat with my gun in my mouth. My bathroom cabinet where I took all those pills... Would I be tempted to do it again if I'm back there? I don't think so, but I can't really trust myself and my feelings these days. 

Another part is the fact that once there, Jon will collect my police-issued weapon and accessories, and that would be that. It's one thing to understand intellectually that I am going to lose my job; it's quite another to watch my partner take my gun away because we both know I cannot be trusted with it, take all those outwards symbols and remove them from my home because I'm never going to serve as a cop again. The thought tears at my guts. 

Or maybe it's simpler than all that. I just dread being there alone. At the hospital there were all these people whose job was to care for me, even if solely from a medical perspective. At home my loneliness would not be escapable. It would be all-compassing. Suffocating. It's gonna eat me up alive. 

Shit. Calm down, Dan. This is no time for a panic attack. Breathe. 

I take a shuddering deep breath and slowly release it. Jon throws a worried look at me but thankfully keeps quiet. I grind my teeth and look straight ahead, unwilling to start a conversation. 

We keep riding in uncomfortable silence until at last we reach my place, where I see a parking spot right in front of the building had been kept open for us by some kind of hand-written sign, complete with a crooked wheelchair symbol drawn with a black marker. I'm embarrassed as hell by the thought of being treated as handicapped. At the same time I gotta admit it would have sucked walking two blocks right now. We park and head into the apartment building. 

My rented one-bedroom is on the third floor, no elevator. It was never a problem for me before; now it seems like an insurmountable feat. I hold on to the rail on my left side and grudgingly accept Jon's support on the right as we slowly take the stairs one at a time, stopping at every landing so that I can catch my breath, until at long last we arrive at my door. Jon draws my key from his pocket and opens it, stepping inside and holding it open for me to walk through. 

I step in and stop dead in my tracks, my jaw almost hitting the floor in my disbelief. 

The place is spotless. Squeaky clean. 

It takes a moment for my legs to respond. I walk slowly inside, taking in the changes that have transpired while I've been hospitalized. The curtains seem to have been washed so that they are sheer white again instead of stained yellowish-beige, and are drawn back to let the sun in. The glass is clear and the bright light coming through gleams back from the scrubbed, waxed floors. 

The sofas and carpets had been vacuumed and probably treated for stains and there's no speck of dust to be seen anywhere. The piles of dirty clothes are gone. I walk into the small kitchen to find it just as perfectly clean and the fridge stacked with homemade food in different containers. I don't really need to go into my small office and my bedroom to know how I'd find them. 

Suddenly I feel a pain in my chest and realize it's from sucking my breath in and holding it for too long. I release it with a shocked laugh, still unable to utter a coherent word. I feel Jon's hand gently patting my shoulder and then squeezing it carefully. I turn back to stare at him. 

"H- How?" 

Jon half-smiles and shakes his head lightly almost like he's trying to shrug off the magic that was pulled in my flat. "Some of the guys pitched in for a cleaning service; others swung by to help with elbow grease. Several of them arrived with food sent by their wives which took me by surprise, too. I never even thought of that. It took the good part of Sunday but I think we're all pretty proud of how it turned out." 

'Took him by surprise'?! My fucking mind is blown away. I suddenly remember his sweaty workout clothes last night and how envious I was of him thinking he was on his way back from the gym... 

"I - I don't know what to say, Jon. I - thank you. You and the guys, thank you so much. I just... shit!" 

I choke up so bad it takes every conscious thought to focus on not breaking down into a sobbing mess right there and then. I breathe sharply through my nose to regain control of my runaway emotions while grabbing the countertop for support. Jon is hovering at my side looking concerned. 

"Take it easy, Dan. It's only a clean for fucks sake. Let's go sit down all right?" 

I take a couple more deep inhales and blow them out slowly until I am reasonably sure I'm not going to burst out weeping like a little girl, and nod to Jon. He walks back to the living room and sits down on the far end of the couch while I slowly lower myself to the nearer one, then relax into it and lean back with a shaky sigh. Jon lets me be for a while, waiting patiently until I open my eyes and look back at him. 

"You okay?" 

I nod. "Yeah. I'm just - I was so not expecting any of this. I was actually thinking back in the car about how bad I let this place go and how I needed to bring it back to habitability..." I shake my head again, still finding it hard to believe. 

"Thank you, Jon. And tell the guys, too. I - I don't deserve this. And I'm - I'm just blown away. I don't know what to say. Thank you doesn't even come close." 

"You're welcome, Dan. You'd have done the same for any of us, right?" It's not a question really and Jon's not waiting for my response before adding: "Now, are you up to talking some logistics?" 

I blink, a little slow on the uptake with this swift change of topic but then find my voice. "Yeah, sure." 

"All right. So the truth is I don't feel comfortable with you being here on your own. Now I wanted to bring you back to my place, but Annie -" Jon stops abruptly and looks down, looking undecided before meeting my eyes and starting again. 

"Annie understands that I'm your friend and that I am committed to help you through this, Dan. But she won't have you over at our house. And I respect that." 

I feel all the air leave my body as I lean over my knees and nod, my eyes buried in the floor at my feet, a fresh wave of shame and self-directed disgust coming back with a vengeance to swamp me. Annie's right. Of course she's right. What was Jon even thinking, asking Naomi's best friend to have me as a house guest after everything I'd done?! 

I take a moment to compose myself before answering. 

"Of course, Jon - I - I could never..." 

I could never show my face to Annie again. I could never look her in the eyes. It's true but still I can't bring myself to say it out loud. Pathetic loser. I bury my face in my hands. 

"Listen, Dan... This is hard, all right? It's hard on everyone involved. Annie - she's speaking with Naomi daily and is trying to help as much as she can long-distance..." 

With Jon's mention of Naomi's name I straighten up sharply to look at him - so sharply that for a moment I feel awful dizzy again and the nausea hits me hard. I close my eyes and swallow repeatedly, willing for it to pass. When I open them to look at Jon again I find him searching my face closely. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 03



"You wanna know how Naomi's doing, Dan?" 

SLAM. 

Jon's question feels like a punch in the gut, knocking me out of breath. Shit. I feel faint. My knuckles tighten on the arm-rest, my other palm rubbing nervously up and down my thigh trying to wipe the sudden cold sweat off onto my jeans. I can barely get the words out through my tightly-ground teeth. 

"Yes, please." Just make it quick because I feel like I'm gonna throw up. I gulp down hard again to stave off the rising sensation. 

Jon appraises me through narrow eyes, but thankfully doesn't draw out the silence for long. 

"She's working through it, with the help of her boyfriend. It hasn't been easy for her, but she's working through it. Annie says she sounds better every day, and that she believes Naomi's going to be all right. Thankfully she's not alone, and is getting the support she needs." 

She's working through it and she's going to be all right. 

The words echo and spin in my head, round and round and round, amplifying the dizziness and at the same time the sickness in my gut seems to lessen. She's going to be all right. 

I slump back resting my head against the worn pillow, close my eyes again and wait for the room to stop spinning. My hands are shaking. My whole body is shaking. I feel fine tremors running through me and my belly is quivering. I simply lie back against the sofa and let the storm of relief blow through me. 

She's going to be all right. 

I realize how I was simply too scared to even think about it over the past few days. It was too much for me to try to handle. Instead I held on to the memory of Naomi at the airport where she was being as strong and as brave as ever, telling me to 'find my happiness and let her have hers', but I have kept any other thoughts of her solidly out of mind, sensing instinctively that I couldn't face them. 

Now I recognize how badly frightened I was to learn the true scope of the damage I'd caused, and just how relieved I am to know that it's not all irrevocable. 

Naomi's going to be all right. 

Maybe I can be all right, too. 

"Hey Dan... You okay buddy?" Jon's voice brings me back to the here and now. I open my eyes and answer, my reply coming out somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

"Y-yeah." 

Thankfully Jon seems to understand the depth of emotions in that one syllable, and also knows me well enough to take pity on me and save me from having to dwell on them for too long. 

"All right. So back to the logistics. As I was saying I don't like the thought of you being all alone here for days on end. Not to mention you still have all those bandages that need replacing and some meds to keep taking and the likes, but seeing the state you're in it would be hard for you to get your ass over to the clinic every day. So for the time being I've arranged for a home nurse to come in twice a day to check up on you and do whatever needs to be done." 

"What?!" I just gape at him in disbelief. Jon shrugs. 

"It was actually Annie's idea, to be honest. She wouldn't have you as a houseguest but she did see my point about you needing someone to watch over you for a while. She offered this as a compromise." 

"So you got me a babysitter." 

I keep my tone flat by a thread; the alternative would have been shrieking with indignation. I am close to being as humiliated as I was in the fucking hospital shower getting an involuntary hard-on from being crippled-washed. 

Jon has the audacity to be amused in the face of my distress. "Yes. You gotta problem with that?" 

I literally sputter until finally I roar out: "HELL YEAH I GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT!" 

Jon laughs out loud right back in my face. The bastard. "Sorry mate, you'll need to suck it up and play nice. I don't think Sandra will take kindly to that foul mood of yours." 

"W-what did you say?" I feel myself deflate, the hot-aired anger leaving my body in a whoosh. I couldn't have heard that one right, could I? 

Jon looks at me curiously but repeats his words, amusement still lingering in his eyes. "I said, I would advise you to be on your best behavior, because I suspect Nurse Sandra would not hesitate to whip your ass back into shape." 

Shit. Hearing Nurse Sandra, Whip and Ass all in the same sentence is SO not what I need right now. 

Focus, Dan. 

"You got Nurse Sandra to babysit me? The one from the hospital?" Careful Dan. Keep it down. 

"Yes, the one from the hospital. Yes, I got her to provide home nurse services this week, working her visits around her schedule. We'll talk again in a few days and depending on your progress decide if you need her next week as well." His amusement is now gone, and the curiosity has turned into suspicion in his tone. "I thought she seemed professional and nice enough at the hospital. Is there a reason you don't want her to be the one coming over? Would you like me to find someone else?" 

"No!" 

Shit, that came out too quick. I gulp and try again, keeping my cool best as I can. 

"No, it's fine. It's just... when did you speak to her about it? Last night..." I pause but then seeing Jon's raised eyebrow decide I might as well come clean. "Last night we got to talking a bit more..." I almost said intimately. Shit. "Anyways we hung out together last night, I told her about my plans for the future, she told me about her school... but it kinda ended on an awkward note. I'm not sure if she'd feel comfortable giving me home care, to be honest. I was a bit of a jerk, I think." 

"Whoa... what?!" Jon looks dazed. He shakes his head as if to clear it and starts again. "Your plans for the future - oh that sounds rich, Dan, and I'd love to hear all about those, too -" He might as well have said 'stop bullshitting me' - "but let's focus for a moment on you being a jerk, shall we? Care to explain that?" 

He looks like he's going to pound into me again like he did the other night; obviously I got some damage control to do, and quick. 

"Wait, wait! No, it's NOTHING like that. Chill out, will ya?!" 

Jon's shoulders relax slightly with his exhale but his expression is still thunderous. "Speak." He almost spits the word at me, and when I hesitate he adds tersely: "Now, Dan." 

"All right! All right. Jeesh. All I meant was -" I shrug, and then hurry again as Jon huffs impatiently at me. "Ugh. As I said we got to talking. I told her about this idea I had to become a handyman - I wanted to tell you about it last night but didn't get the chance - and then she started telling me about herself and her family, and it somehow got to the topic of why she's still not married and what it was she was looking for in a man..." I gulp and think quickly what to say without getting into any details. 

"Anyways I listened and she talked and at some point she looked like she needed a hug so I gave it to her..." 

"You WHAT?! Are you OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!" Jon is all but shouting at me and looks like he's having a hard time keeping his distance and not strangling me with his bare hands. 

"No! Jon listen to me. Nothing happened. I swear. I gave her a hug. A brief one. A half-hug, really, since both of us were sitting in our respective chairs. That's all. And then I split - because I knew even that was wrong of me to do. I can't do that. I know that. That's why it ended awkwardly between us. That's what I meant when I said I was kind of a jerk. Because we talked and we shared cookies and tea and we laughed and we hugged and then all of a sudden I gave her the shoulder. It's... Urgh!" 

I throw my hands up in frustration. I would have run them through my hair except my head is all bandaged up. I'd jump up and pace but I can't really do that, either. Pathetic loser. 

Jon is eying me closely. At least he lost the murderous glare. I may be safe for now. He seems to weigh his words carefully when he finally speaks. 

"What do you mean, you 'can't do that'? Can't do what?" 

I swallow hard through my dry throat. Damn but there's no escaping this guy. I have no choice but answer honestly. "I can't like her. I can't... be thinking about getting close to a woman again. It's too risky. I know that." 

Jon just stares at me for the longest time. Then finally he mumbles: 

"Well I'll be damned. I did not see that one coming." 

He snorts at my confused expression. "Oh c'mon Dan, don't give me that look. You like her. So much so that you actually thought about getting closer to her. Fuck!" 

He motions his hand behind him and I realize he's fishing for the cell phone in his back pocket. I reach out and grab his arm with mine without thinking. 

"Wait!" 

Jon freezes for a moment and then slowly completes his action, drawing the phone out, but doesn't move to make a call. Instead he waits. 

"Jon... yes. I like her. I... have had some... pleasant thoughts about her. But I'm not stupid. And in spite of every evidence to the contrary I need you to believe me when I tell you that I have not completely lost my faculties, either. I know she is off-limits, and I promise you I will remember that when she comes over here to change my bandages and give me my meds twice a day. So please, just... leave it be, alright? If she's okay with helping me for the next few days then I'm okay with it, too, and I promise to be the perfect gentleman. Please?" 

Now it's my turn to wait as my friend and partner looks me up and down, weighing his options. Finally he asks: 

"Why, Dan? Why risk it? Why complicate things?" 

Why, indeed? 

I mull that one over in my head, and finally give it a shot. "Because she's the first person in a long time who I've managed to connect with, to have a real conversation with. She made me feel normal, Jon, if only for a little while. I enjoyed her company. If I'm going to have a babysitter, I'd really like for it to be someone who's fun to hang around with." 

Jon seems undecided still. I dig my heels in. 

"Jon, you're my best friend, and I appreciate everything you've done for me. I do. But I'm not nuts enough to have you as my guardian. At the end of the day this is my decision to make, not yours. And I'm telling you - I promise you - I'm not going to fuck this up." 

I see him nod his head slowly at that and I smile because I know him well enough to know it means I got the upper hand. But just to be on the safe side I quickly add - "Besides... Sandra could use the extra cash. She's putting herself through college; this would be a good short gig for her." 

Jon relents. Bless his soul. 

"All right, Dan. Fine. Just so you know, the reason I'm agreeing to this is that I spoke with Sandra about all this only this morning - I called the ward just before the night shift ended - which means she agreed after whatever it was that went on between the two of you last night. So you must have not been as big of a jerk as you think, or she would have said 'no'. So fine, we'll leave the plan as-is." 

I feel a faint smile fleet across my mouth as I slowly release my breath. "Thanks Jon." 

He presses his lips into a thin line and then speaks in a quiet menacing voice that would have made me quiver if it weren't coming from my best friend. "But so help me God, Dan, if you hurt that woman in any way, you're a dead man. I'd personally see to that. You hear me?" 

My smile widens in spite of me. "Yes, sir!" And then I add because I can't help it - "how old is your daughter, Jon?" 

"She's twelve, why?" 

I shrug nonchalantly. "Oh, I just had a vision of you coming out to the porch with a shotgun to greet her first boyfriend hello". 

Jon growls at me. "Shut up, Dan. Before I change my mind." 

I wink but keep my mouth shut. Jon gets up to his feet and pauses there for a moment. "Will you be all right here until this afternoon Dan? Sandra should be in around 2pm." 

"Yes, Mother. I'll be fine, I swear." 

Jon makes a face and strides over into my office, and I hear the rattle of keys and then the drawer being pulled open and shut. Ah, the gun. He comes back a moment later carrying my police-issued equipment in his hands, my gun in its holster strapped to his torso. He takes a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and hands it to me along with a pen. 

"Sign." 

I unfold the paper and take a quick peek at it. Jon's signature is already there on the bottom; it's a release form of sorts listing the items being removed from my possession and taken by Jon. 

I sign and date my signature, surprised at how steady my hand is. 

"There." 

Jon takes the signed form and folds it back into his shirt pocket. "Sorry, pal." 

"I know Jon. Not your fault." 

"Yeah. I - I'll see you tomorrow, all right? I'll swing by around lunch." 

"Sure, yeah. That'd be good, Jon. See you tomorrow." 

A moment later the front door closes behind Jon's back and I feel a small chill run down my spine and a soft, warm sensation fills my insides as expectation settles over me. 

Sandra will be coming over this afternoon. I can't wait to see her again. 

* 

Her soft knock wakes me up from my light dozing on the living room couch. I pick up my mobile from the cushioned arm behind my head and take a peek. 2pm sharp; the lady is punctual. 

"Just a sec!" 

I call out loud enough to be heard through the door and then will myself to go carefully as I lift myself up to a sitting position, when all I want to do is leap to my feet and rush to open the door. Take it easy, Dan. 

I breathe slowly, lean forward and push myself upright without leaning on anything. Success. Walking over to the door I marvel at the lack of dizziness, only a slight hazy fuzz still lurking at the very edges of my vision. I reach for the handle and pause, taking another calming breath before pressing it down and swinging the door open. 

"Hi." Sandra smiles tentatively at me and I feel my guts tighten as the impact of seeing her face slams into me. 

Damn, damn, damn. 

She must have run up the whole three floors. Her breath comes out in quick little puffs. Her hair is pulled back in its practical ponytail but small wisps of blond have escaped to caress her smooth, flushed cheeks, calling me to brush them behind the cute little shells of her ears. I fist my fingers to stave off the temptation. I can see the pulse fluttering quickly at the base of her throat and her skin looks a little sweaty in the narrow V of her white uniform, which stretches ever so slightly over her round, full breasts with each one of her quick intakes of air. 

Fuck. Down, boy. 

Instead of the white blouse-and-pants type uniform I'd seen her wear at the hospital, today she's wearing a uniformed dress - an all white, front-buttoned, short-sleeved tailored cotton dress that stops just above the knees. It shows off her shapely arms and a good part of her smooth legs before they disappear into ankle-high white sport socks and sneakers. And to top it all off she's carrying a purple-and-pink backpack which somehow pulls her shoulders slightly backwards and forces her chest to stick out in a way that makes it extremely hard not to linger my gaze there. 

I gulp and return my eyes up to hers. The flush on her cheeks had deepened and there's a bit of apprehension in her eyes, and I realize my open scrutiny must have just made her uncomfortable. Shit. 

"I - hey. Sorry for staring, I just..." Damn. Drop it Dan. I shake my head slightly and clear my throat again. "Thank you for coming. Please, come on in." I pull the door open wider and step back, making sure there's plenty of room for her to pass. 

Sandra hesitates for a moment before accepting my invitation, walking slowly into my apartment and pausing a few steps in, waiting for me to close the door behind her. I do, and then turn back to her, indicating towards the living room. Mind your manners, Dan. Be civil. It's been a while but you can do this. 

"Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?" 

Sandra looks surprised and a bit undecided, but then walks over to the single chair, drops her backpack to the carpet beside it and sits down, propped on the edge as if ready to bolt. 

"Sure, yes - some cold water would be good. I actually walked over from my place; I didn't take into account just how hot it was going to be at this time of the day. I was also behind time, so i ran the stairs to catch up. Frankly I'm parched." 

So that explains her heavy breathing and why she ran three flights. "Yes, it is unusually hot today even for summer, isn't it?" I say as I walk over to the kitchen. Good. Talking about the weather is good. Safe. Keep it up. I get a glass and some ice from the fridge and pour the water, then carry it back to the living room and hand it to Sandra. 

"There you go. It's tap water - I don't have any bottled around; hope that's okay?" 

"Thanks, sure that's fine" she mumbles as she takes the glass from my hand, avoiding my fingers. Is that on purpose? I wonder to myself but say nothing else as I walk over and lower myself carefully down to the sofa again, trying hard not to stare at Sandra draining the cool water in a few hearty gulps. 

"Ah, that's so good! Thanks Dan." She says with a smile as she puts the empty glass on the low coffee table, and then stands up, her hands on her hips in an all-business, in-charge type of stance. 

"All right Dan, let's get to it, shall we? Why don't you show me around the place so that I can assess the lay of the land and give some recommendations on what needs to be done?" 

"Ahm, er, sure, follow me please." I'm not really sure I know what she means but don't see a reason to say no. Showing the place to a new guest is the polite thing to do, after all, and I have already committed myself to brushing up on my social skills. I lead the way into the kitchen first and Sandra follows, shocking me by moving straight to the fridge and opening it as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to do, and starts taking inventory of its contents. 

"I see you have quite a lot of ready-to-heat homemade dishes here which is a nice surprise, but you're missing on some of the essentials - perishables and fresh produce. Given the state of your lips and jaw I think you'll find eggs, yogurt, hot cereal and fruit shakes to be easiest to handle which means we'd need to stock up on those. I'm going to move some of this food over to the freezer because it will be a few more days before you can handle it." 

It's not a question and she doesn't even wait for my acknowledgement before she goes on to rearrange the food in my fridge. I just stand there and stare open-mouthed. I see her point, of course I do, but her take-charge approach grates on my nerves. I swallow my irritation. After all she's here to help and it would do neither one of us any good if we butted heads at every turn. But my annoyance needs some kind of venting, and eventually I succumb to it letting my voice ring with irony as I retort:  

"Yes, ma'am". 

She turns and raises a delicate, dark-blond eyebrow at me in what I can only interpret as a chiding scowl, but I can detect a hint of smile on her lips. The combination does strange things to my insides. I pivot quickly to continue our tour and the too-swift movement results in me grasping the doorframe and leaning over as subtly as I can while the darned dizziness settles. 

I can hear Sandra behind me clearing her throat as if getting ready to say something, but then no words follow. Instead there's a short pause in which we both wait quietly for me to regain my balance. Once I do I straighten up again and mumble to Sandra to follow me please, and lead the way to my office. I click the lights on and step in and to the side and she comes in after me, again surprising me by walking straight over to the chair - a wheeled one, with no armrests - and folds her arms across her chest, a disapproving look on her face when she turns back to me. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 03



"This chair is not safe for you over the next few days or so, Dan. Do you have any other chairs you could use in this office? Anything that wouldn't slide around when you try to get in or out of it? Anything with handles you could use to stabilize yourself while sitting yourself or getting up?" 

I snort in my impatience, stare at her, my disbelief written all over my face. "Seriously, Sandra? You don't think I can fucking sit myself at my desk?!" 

Sandra looks skywards for a moment as she takes a deep breath and I suddenly realize she's counting to ten. Slowly. I can see her lips moving as she does. Seeing her inner struggle reminds me again of the circumstances between us and I feel my frustration seep away. 

"Fuck, I - Sandra, I'm sorry. I should not have talked to you like that. You're doing your job, I get it." I heave a breath and blow it out to rid myself of the last lingering annoyance before adding quietly: "No, I don't have another chair unfortunately. I don't have a dining table or chairs; I eat my meals at the coffee table in the living room. Does that mean I can't sit at my desk for now?" 

Sandra's shoulders relax and she unfolds her hands from their drill-sergeant position across her chest. Instead one hand goes back to rub absently at her nape in a gesture that hints to achy muscles, and I find myself wanting to massage them for her, alleviate the little pains, drive away the discomfort. 

I want to make her feel good. 

"I guess we could try the single padded chair from the living room. It may be a tad too low to be very comfortable to work on for long stretches of time, but it's sturdy and it's got good solid armrests so would definitely be preferable to the one you have over here." 

I blink, my mind still lingering on my thoughts of making Sandra feel good, but then with a small, dry laugh I nod and agree. 

"Yeah, sure. Sounds like a good idea. Let me get it..." 

"Absolutely not, Dan. Carrying furniture around? With a concussion? Are you nuts?!" 

My eyes widen in astonishment hearing her words and a moment later she realizes what she just said and a shocked gasp escapes her mouth, her hand flying up to cover it as if belatedly trying to keep those words from slipping out. 

It's so ridiculous - both the situation and her stricken expression - that I feel uncontrollable laughter bubbling deep in my gut, and in another moment it rises up and spills over, shaking my whole body in its wake. My ribs protest painfully with every sharp squeeze of my esophagus but even that is not enough to stop my laughter. I alternate pained groans between my belly-deep chuckles. 

And then I see Sandra's shoulders start trembling as well and the next thing I know we're both laughing so hard we're tearing up and can barely stand up straight. I try to somehow soften the sharp inhales by clenching my teeth, hiss the air in and huff it out, but the laughter is stronger than me. In some part of my mind I know I'm probably going to pay for this carefree merriment with prolonged achiness in my torso but right at this moment I couldn't care less. They say laughter heals... Anyways it feels so good I just don't want to fight it. I'll take my chances. 

It takes forever for us both to calm down and finally I am coherent enough to mumble in between chuckles - 

"Yeah, I'm afraid I am quite nuts... But please don't tell anybody, all right?" 

Her giggles die out and she looks at me with her head tilted to one side, her face softening. 

"Maybe you are, Dan. But I like you anyways. And your secret is safe with me, I promise." 

I don't know what to say to that. We just stare at each other until I remember it's my turn to speak and prevent this silence from becoming uncomfortable once more. 

"I - thanks. Thank you. Now, shall we continue with the grand tour?" 

"Sec, just let me bring that chair over. Wait here." 

Sandra leaves me there and in another moment I hear the muted shuffle of my single chair across the hardwood floors. Apparently she doesn't even try to pick it up - it is quite heavy - and instead slips a kitchen towel under its two back legs and tilts it back to take most of its weight in her hands. The smooth, newly-waxed floors make pulling it backwards easy enough and I hear no worrisome scraping sounds. 

Sandra turns the corner into the hall and throws a look behind her back to make sure she's in the right direction, and continues walking back slowly pulling the chair after her towards the office. 

My mouth grows dry. 

Her slow steps and slightly bent-over position make her white cotton dress pull enticingly across her delicious, swinging ass and hips. It also makes the lower hem of her dress pull up a couple of inches to expose the tender curves at the back of her knees as they turn into smooth-looking thighs before disappearing behind the thin white fabric. 

Fuck. I wanna kiss that spot. 

I never even knew I had a thing for that part of the woman's body until this very moment. Now it takes immense control to ignore this all-encompassing urge to walk over to her, wrap my arms around her hips, go down to my knees and let my lips and tongue explore the light-gold swathe of silken skin. 

The annoying twitch in my groin returns. Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

When she reaches the doorway to my office Sandra stops and pauses, straightening up and then arching back a bit to release the tension in her back. I move to the side to let her pass, and also to keep a safe distance between us. She bends down to grab the chair's arms again and pulls it all the way over to my desk, rolling the 'unsafe' wheeled office chair out of the way. 

"There. Much better. Shall we continue with the tour?" 

I clear my throat. "Ahm, yes, sure. Let's go. Not much else to see, might as well get it all covered." 

She smiles and follows me along the short hall to my bedroom. She takes in the clean floors, the crisply made-up bed, the closet, and looks back at me. 

"All looks good in here. I must admit this place looks way better-kept than any bachelor pad I'd ever seen. I'm impressed, Dan." 

Argh. 

"I wish I could take the credit on that, Sandra, but I gotta admit I had nothing to do with it. What you see here - the clean floors, the neat order, the food in the fridge - that's all Jon and the gang. Truth is it was a dump; I probably hadn't cleaned in months... I was dreading coming back to it from the hospital. But Jon and the other guys - they worked their asses off yesterday to get this place habitable for me. I still can't quite believe all the effort they put in... It's kinda mind-blowing." 

"Wow." Sandra looks around her in renewed appreciation. "I never would have suspected it, looking at it now. Sounds like they really like you, these friends of yours." 

"Yeah." 

Emotions threaten to swamp me again - feelings of unreservedness and humility and gratitude and resentment all mixed up together - and I don't want to deal with them right now. I turn and walk out of the room and open the next door down the hall to show Sandra the bathroom. After a moment's hesitation she follows my lead and walks into the small room, looking around with a critical eye. 

"You were released right after the rounds today, right? That means you haven't had your shower yet?" 

My nod of acknowledgement ends in a desperate groan when her meaning sinks in. 

"Oh no... no way, no how. You are NOT going to make me go through that again. I am perfectly capable of washing myself, thank you very much!" 

Sandra looks unimpressed by my declaration of independence and replies lightly, if a bit impatiently: 

"It's my job to help you get well while here at home, and that includes preventing you from doing dumb stuff like falling in the shower because you're too damn macho to get help. Now I see your shower head is positioned over your bathtub. That's a problem - getting in and out of the tub and standing up under the shower on this slippery bottom, is as risky as it gets." 

Damn. I can see her point but still, no way am I letting her wash me again. Once was humiliating enough. 

"Look, Sandra, it's not like I've been working at the mines over the last couple of days. I can go a day or two longer without a shower." God knows I've gone longer several times in the last few months. But I'm not going to admit to that. 

Sandra seems to consider this, and eventually relents. "Well, I guess we can mitigate some of the risk here. It would be best if you had support bars installed for you to grab onto when you climb in and out of the tab. Until you have those in place it would be best if I helped you with that. And you must sit in the tub rather than stand up when you wash, or risk a nasty fall. Other than that you can have your privacy; I'll just be out in the living room so that you can call me in when you need my help." 

Gulp. "So you're saying I should take a shower now, and I must get your help getting in and out of the tub, but other than that I can wash myself without you being in the room with me?" 

"Yeap. You got it. Any objections?" 

Only about a million. 

"I - argh. All right. I guess I can live with that. Fine." I sound grumpy. I don't fucking care. 

Sandra chuckles. "That's the spirit! But first I'd like to go grocery shopping, and I need you to promise me you won't try getting into the tub while I'm out. All right? I passed the supermarket on my way here so I know where it is - only a couple of blocks away. It'll be quick - about a half-hour or so. Okay?" 

"Umm... shouldn't I come with you?" 

"Er... you mean walk down the stairs, across two block, up and down the aisles of the supermarket, back to the building, and up three flights of stairs again? You think you're up for that?" 

I shrug and mumble under my breath - "I guess not..." 

"All right, it's settled then. And don't worry about the cost of food - I'll just add it to my invoice. I promise to only buy the essentials. See you in a half-hour or so." 

"Ah - all right, yeah. Sure. See ya." 

And just like that she's out the door and I am left staring at it long after it's closed behind her back, wondering how I'm going to survive this arrangement for a whole week. 

Damn. It's not gonna be easy. 

* 

"Okay - I'm all done with the food so it's time for your bath and then I'll change the bandages on your head before I go. I'm afraid I'll need to leave in 30 minutes or so, so you'll need to make it a quick one alright?" 

Back from the supermarket, Sandra went straight to the kitchen to put everything in its place, and now she's back in the living room standing in front of me with her hands on her hips taking easy command of my living room. Even with her cheeks flushed and her forehead gleaming with sweat that she worked up walking briskly to and from the store in the scorching heat, she looks beautiful. 

Focus, Dan. 

"So - you want me to take a shower now?" I'm pleased with how calmly I manage to ask that. 

"Yes. I suggest you get in and get the water going, then sit down on the toilet seat and undress. Please do not try to undress standing up - the chances of your losing your balance are still very real at this point. When you're ready to get in the tub call me and I'll come in to help, and then I'll leave you alone so that you can wash yourself in private. Once you're done call me and I'll help you out. All right?" 

I nod. "Yeah alright". 

"Good. And one more thing: Please make sure you have everything you need - soap, shampoo, washcloth, a towel, a clean change of clothes - ready and within arm's reach so that you don't have to fumble around to get it. Okay?" 

"Yes, that makes sense. I'll do that. Thanks Sandra." 

"Cool. I'll wait for your call then." 

I turn and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Just before I do, however, I see Sandra out of the corner of my eye, setting up the medical supplies she'd pulled out of her backpack and placing them in neat order on my coffee table. 

She's here to do a job, Dan. That's all there is to it, and you'd better remember that. 

* 

I am sorely tempted to get into the tub without Sandra's help. The water's ready and I'm sitting naked on the toilet, the pile of haphazardly folded clothes resting on the edge of the sink waiting to be put back on after my bath; having worn them for less than a day I don't see a reason to change into another set. 

I look at the tub next to me. It's only a step away and I've been feeling so much stronger and steadier - what's the fucking big deal?! I'm sure I can get into the water without stumbling over. 

And then again, for some strange reason, thinking about Sandra's annoyance and disappointment when she realizes I have ignored her explicit request stops me from moving. I realize I prefer enduring the humiliation of her helping my naked butt into the water than face her displeasure if I do it myself. 

Fuck it all. 

"Hey Sandra, you there? I'm all ready to get into the water." 

"Hang on, I'm coming!" 

I hear her answer along with her quick steps drawing closer to the bathroom door, and then it opens and closes behind her and I feel as self-conscious as I'd ever been, painfully aware of how lame I look sitting there with my bandaged head and sutured face and bruised ribs, my hands resting on my lap trying not to be too obvious about covering up my privates. 

To Sandra's credit she never misses a step as she comes over to crouch at my right side, slipping her hand around my back to grab me under my left armpit and taking my right arm, resting it around her shoulders. 

"All right Dan, this is the same as we did at the hospital moving you from the bed to the chair and back, only this time we'll get you into the tub. Ready?" 

Fuck. I can swear her naked arm is going to leave its brand against my bare back. Her body heat is going to melt my side. Her sweet body smell, clean and a little sweaty, drifts and swirls around me in the tiny space of my bathroom, making me long to bury my nose in the graceful arch of her neck and take a deep, satisfying sniff. 

Dammit. Down, boy! 

"Dan? You ready?" 

She turns her face to watch mine closely and her lips are only a couple of inches away from mine. My whole body is shaking with tension and I know she can feel it. I need to get into the tub and get her out of the room as soon as possible or I am going to humiliate myself even further. 

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's do this." 

I lean forward to get my weight onto my feet as Sandra moves with me, and then push up to a stand. I notice she's not really helping me so much as simply making herself available for me to stabilize myself; I also can't ignore the fact that my dick is already at half-mast and I need to move quickly if I have any hope of disguising my involuntary response from the pretty nurse at my side. 

We take the one step over to the side of the tub together, and then she waits for me to get in, one leg at a time. She crouches down again, dropping one knee to the floor and bending over the rim of the tub taking much more of my weight as I lower myself to a full sitting position inside the warm water. There's no way she could miss my obvious state of arousal, but again she gives no indication of noticing it. Instead she releases me and leans back, holding on to the side of the tub while still sitting with her haunches on her elevated heels. 

"Good! That went well. You comfortable in there? Got everything you need for when you finish?" 

"Yeah, I got it all within reach." I gesture towards the toiletries tucked at the corner where the tub meets the walls, and to the towel hanging from the hook on the wall. 

"Great, then I'll leave you to it. As I said I'd need you to be quick about it so that I have enough time to re-do your bandages before I leave for my shift at the hospital. You think you can be done within ten minutes?" 

I chuckle at that and answer dryly: "Lady, I don't know what your standards are but ten minutes is probably as long I'd ever spent alone in the bathtub." 

An amused smile spreads on Sandra's face and there's a twinkle of mischief in her eyes when she answers lightly: "Hmm... and here I was thinking boys liked to enjoy their private time in the shower... " 

She winks at me before turning her back and striding out while finishing her thought. "Just be warned that in ten minutes I'll be back to get you out of the water, so whatever you do - make it quick!" - and then the door clicks shut behind her, leaving me stunned and staring open-mouthed at the empty room. 

I can't believe she just said that. 

But she did, and her none-too-subtle innuendo is more than enough to get my already-charged dick into full attention, my erection growing hot and heavy and jutting straight up in the water, the head peeking out above the surface, mocking me with its single-eyed wink. 

Oh but the joke is most definitely on me. 

I had not masturbated in ages. And it wasn't from any self-imposed celibacy, either - I simply had not felt the need. My sex drive seemed to have vanished when my marriage ended. The divorce from Naomi was hell, not because of her, but because I couldn't live with myself, with the dissonance of betraying my wife and sub for the sake of other family obligations... my father's wishes. 

I had rationalized it to myself as having chosen the lesser of two evils. But my failure to stand up for my wife translated into a simple statement of fact that kept repeating in my head ever since our separation: I am a pathetic loser. I had lost my self-esteem, my belief in myself as a man and as a husband. I'd most certainly lost my Dom. I was no longer worthy of topping anybody when I'd failed my sub in such a fundamental way. 

For a while I'd tried keeping her close, tried to still provide for her in some way so that I could still keep face, if only for myself in the mirror. I offered that she stay at our home, no rent, indefinitely. She flat-out declined and instead took a job on the other side of the world, leaving me a note saying she trusted me to transfer her half of the proceedings from selling the house and the furniture to her new bank account. I did, of course, but it was a tremendous shock to my system. It was as if she never needed me. As if she never belonged to me. As if she never loved me. 

I knew, in my head, that it wasn't like that at all. I knew she was acting in self-preservation. I admired her for her resilience and for her guts, uprooting her life and relocating to another country, another culture - a single woman in her late thirties, with nothing and nobody to lean on but herself and her talent. But it all just served to deepen my self-loathing and regret. Losing interest in sex was... yet another disappointment, almost insignificant in comparison to the big stuff. Sex ceased to matter. 

And now - right after I'd hit my bottom, mere days after I'd lost my head and tried to force Naomi back to me and then tried to end my life - all of a sudden here I am, painfully lusting after Sandra. Getting a raging hard-on just from being near a woman who likes to boss me around. A woman who had put me through the most humiliating experience of my life. A woman who had, despite all that, confessed to being sexually submissive and needing someone to dominate her in the bedroom. 

Fuck! 

I can feel my heartbeat throbbing in my engorged member and without thinking I reach down and wrap my fingers around the shaft and squeeze firmly, trying to relieve the achiness. It only serves to stoke the fire further, and my hand starts stroking slowly up and down while my breath catches in my chest and then releases in a low moan. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04



Author's note:

I have edited this chapter following comments from @chiangku and L.E. - thank you both so much!

Also this is an opportunity to properly thank and credit my editor and co-creator, the slimmer, even sexier Brit!

~~~~~~~

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, attempts suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, ends up with a head trauma at the hospital where he meets nurse Sandra. After his release from the hospital Sandra provides homecare services.

Seriously though, go and read Ch. 01-03. It would make so much more sense. And for more background on Dan's ex-wife Naomi and her POV on the attack check out my other series Whiskey and Rye.

In this chapter things do heat up between Sandra and Dan... Enjoy! :)

~~~~~~~

The next few days out of the hospital fall into the same strange routine. Sandra comes to visit me at home twice a day. Her morning visits are kept short, no more than a check-up to make sure I haven't fallen or otherwise hurt myself since the previous evening. Her afternoon visits are longer: She asks me about my dizziness and headaches, checks my vitals and reflexes and neurological responses, verifies I'd taken my meds and redresses the bandages on my head.

She also has me take a bath, staying out in the living room while I wash myself... and while, unbeknown to her, I masturbate with her in mind. Just like I did that first time I keep the drain open and the water running hoping to mask my groans and grunts as I jerk off fast and furious, images of Sandra naked and pliant and responsive dancing behind my tightly-shut eyelids until I cum all over myself, barely containing my cries of release.

I can't seem to help it. I know it's wrong. Pathetic. But the need is simply too great to resist. And knowing she's there in the other room doesn't deter me; if anything it heightens my excitement by making all those fantasies feel almost real, like maybe...

*

I get better every day. My headaches are milder and further apart and my appetite is back now that the nausea had mostly passed. With every new day the swelling in my lips subsides and I manage more 'real' food along with the fruit shakes and yogurt and eggs until by the end of the week I'm eating pretty much normally again.

I still sleep a lot. And think. I've done all of the planning I could think of for my new business idea; now there's a ton of footwork to do which I won't be able to start on until I'm fully healed. It's frustrating to say the least, but seeing how there's really nothing I can do about it I ignore my own impatience and let myself take this time-off from 'real life' and focus instead internally, letting my thoughts ruminate freely without the pressure of work and other obligations.

I have much to think about.

~~~~~~~~~

I got a call from Dr. Pappas' office early Tuesday morning and had my first appointment that same afternoon. It took some logistics - calling for the cab was the easy part; arranging for help down the stairs and later up again proved a bit more challenging but eventually I made it happen. Having achieved it on my own without Jon or Sandra's help gave me a sharp thrill of satisfaction, followed immediately with a self-mocking snort. Big deal.

But once there in the clinic, once the conversation started, all those trivialities faded away as I found myself embracing this new experience with surprising ease and even, to my utter astonishment, with real, growing pleasure.

I didn't know what to expect when I first sat in front of Dr. Pappas in what looked and felt for all intents and purposes like a cozy little living room. I had wondered if I'd be lying down on a couch, but when I entered the room Dr. Pappas showed me into a comfortable, cushioned single chair which embraced me warmly as I sank into it. Dr. Pappas sat in a similar chair, separated from mine by a beautiful rug and a low coffee table.

"So, Dan, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know, doc?"

"Anything you feel I should know, for starters."

He answered with a kind smile and leaned back in his chair, settling, so it seems, for a long listen. He wasn't taking notes; instead there was a small recording device set on the coffee table between us which Dr. Pappas started after obtaining my permission.

I started talking. It felt strange. Almost like a first date, and I haven't had one of those in about fifteen years. I told him about my parents, the traditional way I'd been raised, being the only child and grandchild in the family. The pride and dread I'd carried around as a kid knowing the future, indeed the very existence of my family was in my hands. How it made me feel omnipotent and scared shitless all at the same time.

Dr. Pappas asked a few questions here and there mainly for me to elaborate on my relationship with each one of my parents, how I felt about the things I'd told him at the time they happened, and what I made of them now, in hindsight.

I enjoyed the exchange, though I couldn't see how it would help 'fixing' me. I asked Dr. Pappas the question and he chuckled and answered easily:

"Well, in order to 'fix' you I need to understand what made you 'break' in the first place. What we're doing here is to start mapping out your operating system, if you will. Uncover the underlying set of rules and assumptions that govern the way you operate as a human being in the world. Then we will look for incidents where the reality of your life came into conflict with those basic beliefs of yours. In my experience, it's these points of friction that have the most devastating potential."

I nodded; that made sense to me. But then it didn't quite answer my question.

"And then what? Say we've found the cause of my breakdown. How do we then fix it? How can we guarantee it won't happen again?"

Dr. Pappas' smile broadened.

"I like the way you say 'we', Dan. It's important that you know this isn't about me fixing you, but rather about me facilitating your figuring it out for yourself. As for 'how' - I can't know for sure before we identify the cause; but it would probably involve considering new perspectives, new ways of thinking about yourself and your life. Maybe even adjusting some of those underlying beliefs that then dictate the way you interpret what happens in your life."

I thought about that for a moment. Did I want my outlook on life to change? My knee-jerk reaction was a resounding NO - I believe what I believe because it's true! And then I frowned to myself. Hearing the indignation inside my head, in the exact intonation as my father would have said it, no less, was proof enough that challenging my own long-held belief system was exactly what I needed.

"All right. Let's do it then." I smiled faintly back at Dr. Pappas as I said it.

"Good. So, back to your history..."

*

And so I've done nothing but think and sleep ever since I got back home on Tuesday evening. It becomes obvious to me that on my next meeting with Dr. Pappas - which is scheduled for 3pm today, Friday - I will need to start talking about Naomi. Which means I'd have to talk about our relationship - including the D/s aspect which was at the heart of it. And which I suspect was also the root cause of my attack on her.

Shit, shit, shit!

For a moment I panic and consider calling the whole thing off. There's no way Dr. Pappas will understand. He'll think I'm a freak. Fuck, he will know I'm a freak. Will probably have a fancy medical term to describe my specific flavor of deprivation. If I go there and tell him about it he's going to be appalled, disgusted. He won't want to treat me.

Shit. He may keep seeing me out of sense of duty, perhaps because he was the one to suggest I continue treatment with him. I couldn't bear it if he did that.Pathetic loser.

I feel my heart beating too fast, throbbing again inside my injured skull, and my palms are cold and clammy. I feel nauseous again. I can't breathe. I need to get out of here. I need to cancel that appointment. I won't humiliate myself in front of Dr. Pappas...

Stop!

I squeeze my thighs hard, sinking my fingernails deep into my skin until I wince and hiss at the pain, using it to focus myself on the here and now, to force myself back from the brink of panic. I blow out air through pursed lips to stave off the dread threatening to overtake me, and then consciously inhale through my nose, slow and deep.

As I manage to get my breathing under control I can finally feel the anxiety subside. I try gulping down but my throat is dry as a desert. I get up and walk unsteadily to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, noticing with a strange sense of detachment that my hands are still shaking bad enough to splash water all around as I bring the glass to my parched lips.

I take care when putting the glass down and walk back to the couch, settling down onto it with a frustrated sigh.

Canceling my appointment with Dr. Pappas won't solve anything; I'd still need treatment and will get into the same exact bind with the next therapist. There's no point trying to avoid this. Instead I will need to trust Dr. Pappas and hope he would be able to put any personal biases aside...

Trust and hope.

Can I do that?

*

By the time Jon arrives I am fit for a chat again, thank goodness. We share lunch sitting side-by-side on my couch, leaning over the coffee table. Eating the delicious, homemade shepherd's pie feels like heaven. Comfort food got its name for a reason, and I indulge with relish.

There's another appointment for me to get to this morning: I am scheduled to get my sutures out and hopefully also remove the bandages from my head, as Sandra had told me she thought the bandages have done all the good they could and now it would be best to let the wound 'air' in order to fully heal. I accept Jon's invitation to hitch a ride with him after lunch, and soon we're on our way to the hospital.

There's barely any wait at the outpatient clinic and the procedure itself is quicker - and less painful - than I expected, and I find myself with over an hour to kill before my shrink appointment. Grimacing to myself thinking of the long wait I'm in for an idea comes to mind that turns my frown into a faint smile. Tonight will be Sandra's last homecare visit. I could give her a pleasant surprise, a small 'thank you' for all the trouble I'd put her through.

Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do with my time. Let's go.

*

I leave the cab not a block away from Dr. Pappas' office and walk into the Force's unofficial barber shop. Mr. Sharas stares at me, horrified.

"Christ almighty, what have you done to yourself, officer?! Come, sit down, let me take care of that mess."

I mumble an apologetic response and take my seat. A moment later the old nylon cape is draped around me and Mr. Sharas pumps the pedal raising the chair up to take a closer look at my head. The wrinkles on his face sharpen with his deep frown as his eyes meet mine in the slightly-scratched mirror.

"That's some serious damage you've done there, officer. They've shaved half your hair off, it seems, and the rest is overgrown by a month or so. What would you like me to do?"

I shrug. "You're the expert, Mr. Sharas. Do whatever you think is right. And I'd like to get a shave too if that's all right?"

The old-timer's face clears up at once and he beams down at me upon hearing my unusual request. "Ah! Why didn't you say so? Why of course, of course! Now you let me take good care of you, eh? Just lean back and relax..."

It takes the good part of the hour because Mr. Sharas works slowly, mindful of the injuries still visible on my head and face, but as I step down from the chair and take a closer look at myself in the mirror I nod with satisfaction at my reflection. I still look older than my years and too thin for my frame, and the left side of my face still shines with yellow, green and purple. But the too-long, unkempt hair and 2-week-old beard are gone, replaced by a military-style crop on my head and a clean shaven face. I no longer look like a raving lunatic or a miserable homeless down and out. I look... civilized. Kind of.

"Thank you so much Mr. Sharas. I really appreciate this. How much do I owe you?"

The barber quotes his price and I pay, thanking him again before leaving the shop and walking the block over to the psychiatric clinic. The light exercise is good for my nerves, releasing them with each stride. Still, by the time I take my seat in front of the good doctor my heart is pounding again.

Trust and hope.

*

"So, Dan, how are you today? You look a thousand times better than you did on Tuesday."

I feel the light trembling in my hands. I want to run, and at the same time I want to just blurt the whole thing out and be done with it. I settle on answering the truth, which is bound to lead the next line of questions directly to the heart of the matter:

"Thanks. I'm doing better. Nervous as hell though."

Dr. Pappas raises his brows. "Oh?"

I shrug and explain: "I figured we'd talk about Naomi today. My ex-wife. There's some... heavy stuff there. I have no idea how you're going to take it."

Dr. Pappas' mouth quirks upwards. "Let me promise two things before you do: One, everything you say here is privileged information and will not be shared with anyone. And two, I've heard some crazy shit before and have dealt just fine. Try me."

He continues to hold my gaze evenly, sitting in his chair and leaning slightly forwards towards me with his elbows on the cushioned armrests, his fingers laced loosely. I find myself mimicking his position, except my own fingers are clenched together so tightly the knuckles turn white. I grind my teeth and swallow past the dryness of my throat a couple times to get my voice to function, and then I blurt out:

"Do you know what a D/s relationship is? Ever heard of BDSM?"

The doctor's eyes widen by a tiny fraction but that's the extent of his outward response. He doesn't pull back. Instead he nods slightly.

"Yes, I've heard of it, of course. Haven't experienced it first-hand, nor have I ever treated a patient who was leading this kind of lifestyle, but I am somewhat familiar with the basics."

Leading the lifestyle, he said. Phew. I exhale slowly, trying not to be too obvious about it, as I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. It doesn't go unnoticed by Dr. Pappas.

"You seem relieved. Were you expecting a different response?"

I shift my weight uncomfortably and wave my hands trying to find the right words.

"I - It's the first time I'd ever... come out, I guess is the closest way to put it. Aside from my best friend and his wife - who actually learned about it just recently from Naomi, not me - I've never told a soul about my... alternative lifestyle. I didn't know what to expect... I kinda thought you being disgusted and kicking me out of here was the most probable outcome."

He actually smirks at me. "Sorry, you'll need to try much harder than that."

I smile back but it washes away quickly as I answer. "Well you know it gets worse..."

Dr. Pappas sobers up but answers calmly, still looking me straight in the eye. "Yes. I know. You told me at the hospital that you attacked your ex-wife, remember? And I still offered to be your doctor. You accepted, and here we are. You haven't scared me away, and I don't think you will. The question is: Will you trust me not to freak out on you?"

His words startle me; they hit so close to my own thoughts prior to this appointment.

"I - Yeah. I think I can do that. Trust you, that is."

"Good. So let's go back to your relationship with your ex - tell me more about that. Start at the beginning."

*

The hour-long meeting flies by so fast I am surprised when Dr. Pappas looks at his clock and tells me we will continue on Tuesday. Sitting in the cab on my way home I am deep in thought, processing it in my mind.

We haven't even got to the divorce yet. The conversation was all about how I met Naomi, how and when we decided to marry, and the evolution of our relationship from the occasional spank in the heat of the moment to a proper Dom-sub exchange, not quite 24/7 but certainly more than the odd play session.

We spend quite some time on the theory of it - what BDSM is all about; SSC, power exchange - and I can't escape the memory of the very similar conversation I've had just a few weeks ago with Jon and Annie which took place just before my breakdown. It feels as if a lifetime had passed since. As opposed to my friends' very personal reasons for taking an interest in the subject, Dr. Pappas seems interested in an academic sort of way.

Well at least he cares enough to want to understand me.

~~~~~~~~~

Back home I am busy in the kitchen. I was exhausted earlier when I came back from the clinic and crashed for an hour on my couch, but now I feel refreshed and a little agitated. I channel my excess energy into chopping vegetables to make a fresh salad - cucumber, tomato, fresh onion and Kalamata olives. The salty cheese chunks will be added later, as would the olive oil and fresh lemon squeeze.

I'm making dinner in hopes of sharing it with Sandra. I'm not 100% sure she can stay long enough to eat but have decided to take a chance, knowing she had spent all day in nurses' school today and was stopping on her way back home.

She probably has other plans. It is Friday after all.

I ignore that negative little voice in my head and remind myself to trust and hope.This new-found optimism feels strange, like a new pair of shoes that needs to be walked in for a while. I'll make it fit, goddamit. Now finished with the salad I move over to the fridge, pulling that homemade Lasagna I'd been saving for 'a special occasion' out of the freezer. I have made a fresh Tzatziki earlier and have some nice white wine cooling, too. I hope Sandra likes it.

I pop the frozen dish in the oven to heat and take a quick look at the time - 5:40, I've got about 35 minutes before she gets here. Good. Glancing over to my coffee table I make sure it's set nicely - as nicely as can be considering it's not a real dining table and there's no tablecloth - and with a satisfied nod I head out to the shower. I want to be my best when she arrives.

As if to prove to myself that I really am okay I forgo the bath and decide to take a shower instead. It's been fucking ages. Stepping into the steaming water without holding on to anything is a small victory, admittedly, but I savor it all the same. I stand there for a minute soaking the heat up before reaching for the blue shower gel... and pause.

Should I? Or should I not?

Hell yeah. Fuck it all. Besides, the way I've been going I'd probably embarrass myself if I didn't.

Those now-familiar mental images of Sandra come rushing in, filling my head with vivid colors as my slippery palm wraps around my quickly-swelling dick. Vague memories of Naomi still linger as well following my conversation with Dr. Pappas, and my mind seems to hover there for a moment, conjuring up my ex-wife's compact, athletic body and comparing it to Sandra's rounder, curvier form. While I'd always loved Naomi's petite physique it holds surprising little allure to me now; instead there is nothing I want more right at this very minute than to sink into Sandra's luscious femininity. Sink my fingers into her supple flesh. Sink my tongue into her soft sweetness. Sink my cock into her slippery depths.

My left palm is flat against the wall to keep me from falling over while my right fist pumps my now achingly-stiff member going as fast as I can. I don't care how pathetic I am. I don't care how messed up it all is. All I care about is the images of Sandra dancing in my head and the pleasure building in my groin.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04



I keep stroking faster and faster, my movements short and jerky focusing on that most sensitive patch of skin where every nerve ending is firing up begging for more, more, more until that telltale tingling starts at the bottom of my spine and then travels forward to engulf my balls and then rushes up my shaft and explodes from the tip, blowing my load all over the wet shower wall.

Ffffhhhhhhuuuuck!

I heave and pant for several long moments, struggling to regain control of my breath while watching the long, thick jets of cum slide slowly down the tiles. The now-familiar post-orgasmic headache and dizziness settle in but aren't as bad as before and I manage to slowly sink down to my knees, holding onto the sides of the bath, and stay there for a couple of minutes longer until I can leave the tub without risking any dumb falls. I hope.

~~~~~~~~~

"Wow! Look at you... I mean... Wow!"

Sandra is staring at me from the doorway, looking positively shocked. And pleased, if I can go by the twinkle in her eyes and the up-tilt of her voice. I grin self-consciously back at her.

"So you like?"

She laughs. "Oh yeah, I like all right! Not that I'm averse to the rough-around-the-edges look but I'd admit you took that one to the extreme... you do clean up nicely, Dan. Well done!"

My smile widens and I answer with a playful jest - "Why, thank you, young lady. I aim to please. Please do come in."

I step back and hold the door, still watching her face, and my guts clench at the way her eyes widen and her cheeks turn pink at my words. Young lady.

Fuck. Should I apologize?

But Sandra doesn't seem offended. Instead she steps in and then pauses again seeing the coffee table set up for dinner for two and turns back to me, both eyebrows raised with real curiosity, and just a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Expecting company tonight?"

Suddenly I'm nervous. What if she refuses my invitation? It's not exactly appropriate after all, even if I really mean it as a sincere thank-you gesture. I gulp and clear my throat. Fuck propriety. I just hope she doesn't freak out.

"I - ahm, I actually was hoping you'd let me offer you dinner tonight. You know... to show my gratitude for taking care of me this past week. I..."

I stop and gauge her expression. Her brow is still a tiny bit furrowed, as if she's considering it. I finish quickly. "I really do appreciate your help, Sandra. Not only did you take care of the medical stuff but you kept me well-fed and clean and prevented me from pulling any crazy-assed macho stunts... I'd love to do this for you. If you don't have any other plans, that is."

Damn. I hate how insecure I sound. I bite the inner side of my cheek to keep from saying anything else and just wait.

She looks at me a little oddly for another moment before answering lightly - "I was happy to do it, Dan. It was a good opportunity for me to make a bit of extra cash. And sure, dinner sounds great - I'm actually starving! Is there anything I can do to help?"

I feel my confidence come back at her enthusiastic acceptance.

"No, no, you're officially off-duty. No more work for you tonight. As of right now you are my guest. Please have a seat and I'll get the food out."

"Oh - all right, sure. Thank you."

Sandra gives me another tentative smile as she walks over and settles down on the couch. She's wearing that white button-down uniform dress which does crazy things to my imagination, especially as it pulls up to expose several inches of her lightly-tanned thighs. God she's got great legs. Her hands fidget in her lap and I can see she feels a bit awkward with this sudden change of roles but at the same time she seems to accept it graciously. Good. I turn and walk over to the kitchen, coming back with the chilled white wine.

"Pour for us while I get the starters, all right?"

She nods and reaches for the bottle and I go back to retrieve the tzatziki from the fridge, as well as the salad, a small dipping bowl with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and a fresh loaf of bread which I've heated up in the oven for a few minutes along with the lasagna. I slice the bread up into thick chunks and then place everything on a tray and carry it to the living room, amazed at how good I feel right now. How alive. How... hopeful?

Once the appetizers are all set on the table I put the tray away and sit down next to Sandra, accepting the glass of wine she hands me with a smile.

"To your health, Dan." She surprises me with her offer of a toast, but I like the straightforward sincerity in her words.

"Thank you Sandra. To good health all around, indeed. Yamas!"

She smiles and mumbles "yamas" as we clink our glasses carefully and take a first sip of the fresh, light wine. I almost choke when her pink tongue comes out to lick her lips, savoring every tangy drop. Gulping fast I clear my throat:

"It's not exactly gourmet food but I hope you enjoy it. Please dig in. Bon appetite!"

*

At the sink in my kitchen I take a few slow, calming breaths while rinsing our plates with absent-minded efficiency. There's a light buzz in my head and another, heavier one, is echoed deep inside my core. Neither one of them has much to do with the wine; I'd barely had a single glass. I know I need to get a grip before returning to the living room.

We've just finished eating and I made Sandra stay put on the couch and finish her wine while I cleared the table and took care of the few dishes. I desperately needed this moment to myself, to step away from that magic spell that woman weaves around me without even trying; to think with my head rather than with other body parts.

There was an awkward moment when we'd both reached for the bread at the same time and our fingers touched. Oddly, neither one of us pulled away; at least not immediately. We just sat there, mesmerized by the tiny skin-to-skin sensation, eyes locked together, breaths held, two matching deer-in-the-highlights panicked looks on both our faces... until the silliness of it struck and we both cracked up and pulled back, laughing. I gestured for her to go ahead which she did with a shrug and a smile, and I felt like we'd just passed some kind of a test.

Aside from that I've thoroughly enjoyed sharing the meal with Sandra. Even with the constant inner struggle to keep my attraction to her hidden and under control, it was fun. It felt natural to be sitting so close together, eating and talking and appreciating each other's company. And now I'm stalling in the kitchen because I don't want the evening to end; don't want her to leave just yet.

I can't keep her here, either.

With a heavy sigh I finish the cleanup and wipe my hands dry, and then roll my shoulders before straightening up, my hands balling to fists at my sides.

Right.

With a conscious effort I unclench my fingers and try to soften the too-tight muscles at my back. You've done well tonight, Dan. Don't fuck it up. Taking another moment to wipe the frustrated scowl off my face I walk back into the living room, finding Sandra standing by the small bookcase at the corner of my living room, checking out the titles there. She turns back to me with a tentative smile.

"So you're into popular science?"

She's in no hurry to leave?

I clear my suddenly-tight throat and try to focus on her words. "Yeah, I guess so. Never was much of a reader, I gotta admit. But this stuff I like. It's interesting, and I can read it in small chunks without forgetting the plot..." You're bubbling, Dan. "How about you? You read a lot?"

Sandra half-smiles and seems a bit embarrassed, but still meets my eyes when she answers. "I like popular science too, when the mood strikes. But usually I read what you'd call junk - romance novels mostly, and sometimes sci-fi and fantasy."

"Romance novels? Seriously?" I'm truly surprised. She seems like such a practical woman. I was not expecting that.

The pink on her cheeks deepens. "Yeah. And even though most of them are complete rubbish I still enjoy them. They're like fairy tales for grownups. And there's always a happy ending. I love those."

I look at her face, all lit up and animated as she defends herself - unnecessarily - from my impending criticism. I can't resist poking a bit more fun at her. "I tried reading one, once, a long time ago. Gave it up after a chapter or two. How can you stand that stuff?" I shake my head mockingly, aiming for a slightly condescending tone, but smiling wide to make sure she doesn't mistake the haughty ring in my voice for anything too serious.

Her eyes twinkle mischievously back at me. "Now that's interesting! You'll need to tell me the story of how you got to be reading that one in the first place!" And then she shrugs nonchalantly and adds: "Besides, you must not have gotten to the really naughty parts..."

She wiggles her eyebrows comically, but underneath them her baby-blue eyes have grown a shade darker as they lock with mine. I swear I can see desire smoldering in their depth - is it from remembering some of those naughty parts, or something else? - and my heart skips a beat only to kick-start in a shallow, quick pace a moment later when her tongue sneaks out to swipe quickly across her lower lip in a tiny nervous gesture.

I hold myself perfectly still - well, all of me except for my dick, which is swelling so fast it's already uncomfortable inside my jeans - and I try to think of something to say which would not scare her right away. But my mind is blank; or rather it is filled with swirling, tantalizing images of Sandra fully enjoying the naughty partsof some cheesy romance novel...

On her back in her bed, legs splayed wide and bent, making her little nightie slide back to bunch around her hips... one hand holding the worn paperback up close to her face while the other sneaks down to her dampening panties... stroking lightly over her barely-covered slit, teasing herself, rubbing through an ever-growing wet spot before slipping under the elastic, seeking her hot, slick folds...

I blink rapidly, twice, and suddenly Sandra is standing close, real close, so close that I can smell her sweet skin, and then she steps closer still and the tips of her gorgeous breasts touch and then press against my torso, her hands coming up to rest on my shoulders, her thumbs grazing my convulsing neck. I fist my hands so hard at my sides they are going to have nail marks in them later. I must still be hallucinating. This can't be real.

But then I feel her nipples, poking like hard erasers through her thin white uniform dress, sliding a few inches up my chest as she pushes herself onto her tiptoes until her mouth is just a tiny dip away from mine and her hands press lightly at my nape, silently communicating her wishes.

Fuck... argh, FUCK! I need to taste her. Just a taste... and then I'll stop.

And then all thoughts vanish when I let her draw my head down to eliminate the distance between us and I feel her full, soft lips, slightly parted, press warm and gentle against my own in a slow and lingering kiss.

It takes a moment - and every shred of self-control - to curb my instinctive response. In that uninhibited heartbeat my own lips open and my palms come up to the delicious curve of her waist, my thumbs barely skimming the sensitive sides of her full, heavy breasts. Sandra responds by pressing her whole body into mine, tilting her pelvis forward and rubbing her Venus mound in sweet, tiny motions against the steel rod in my pants. The very tip of her tongue slides past her lips to flick against mine.

Only then does my long-practiced discipline fully kick in, but even with that it is all I can do to hold myself in tight check while Sandra continues her sweet exploration, her tongue sweeping along my still-too-sensitive lips. Small stings of pain flare and shoot from the scarred tissues, mixing in with the pleasure rising up from my groin, somehow deepening it.

But then she draws back an inch to look at my injured lips and comes back to place the softest of kisses on the worst of my bruises, and suddenly reality comes back to kick me in the guts.

What the fuck am I doing?!

With a sharp intake of air and a mumbled curse my hands tighten to hold Sandra firmly in place as I take a step backwards, putting some much needed space between our bodies. But no matter what my mind tells me I can't let go of her body under my palms, and she seems just as reluctant to let go of my shoulders. So we stand like that for long, agonizing moments, still in each other's arms, sort of, both breathing hard, staring mutely at each other.

"Why not?"

Her voice is raspy but at the same time challenging, demanding the truth. Her question cuts straight to the point and there's nowhere for me to hide.

My answer comes out as an agonized whisper. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

At first there's confusion on her face, and then her eyes widen with realization, only to darken a moment later, hurt and humiliation flooding their depths. She tears her hands from me and takes a stumbling step back, balling her palms at her sides.

"I see."

She swirls around, her eyes frantically searching - for her bag, probably - and my hand shoots out on its own accord to grab at her upper arm, stopping her in her place.

"I don't think that you do, Sandra."

I keep my voice as low and steady as I can, but I think she can still detect the ring of desperation just under the surface. Maybe that's what makes her stop and look at me again. Her eyes are too bright and red-rimmed. Fuck.

"Don't I?" She tears her arm from my hand with an impatient jerk and turns to face me squarely, palms on hips, back straight, chin and chest thrust up. Sexy as hell. I can't help but notice.

"I think I understand perfectly well, Dan. For all your fancy open-minded talk youdo think that I'm a freak because of what I told you at the hospital. But you're one of the good guys, and my kink really doesn't do it for you. You don't want tohurt me. Well, just FYI, that's not what I was looking for just now. And the fact that I sometimes like to be dominated in bed doesn't mean that I can't enjoy good ol'..."

Her voice trails off when the expression on my face finally registers.

"Th - that's not what you meant, is it?" Her words now are only barely above a whisper.

Slowly, I shake my head from side to side. I don't trust myself to speak.

"Oh lord... just shoot me now."

Sandra buries her face in her hands, and then walks over to the couch on flops down as if all her energy had just deserted her. She leans back against the cushion, her face still hidden behind her palms. I follow her to the couch and fold myself carefully down beside her. She peeks through her fingers and I try to reassure her with a half-smile as I reach out to take her wrists and gently pry her hands away from her burning cheeks.

"As I said, I don't want to hurt you... so I'm afraid shooting you is off the table, too."

My lame attempt at humor is rewarded with a small twitch at the corner of Sandra's full lips. I am momentarily distracted by that pink lusciousness, and it blooms in response into a real smile. Caught, I force my gaze to travel up her reddened face to her eyes, and find them looking straight at me, quietly curious.

Time to 'fess up, Dan. Now.

Unconsciously locking her wrists between my fingers and thumbs as I take her small hands in my much larger ones I straighten up to tell her as much of the truth as I dare.

"What I meant was that I don't trust myself not to hurt you, Sandra." She tilts her head as she considers my statement but doesn't seem convinced. I try again.

"You asked me 'why not' - that's why. I was afraid - am afraid - that I'd lose control. That I'd screw up and hurt you without meaning to -"

Now Sandra seems downright confused. Sighing deeply I release her wrists to rub both hands over my face before taking another deep breath and facing her again. She sits quietly, her eyes expectant and somewhat wary. Good. She should be.

"Sandra, I'm - first of all, I have not been completely honest with you at the hospital. While I did tell you that I am not at all disgusted by your kinks, as you put it, I had conveniently - cowardly - failed to mention was that I actually shared some of them. You see, I -" gulp - "I'd been dominant in most of my sexual relationships. Including my marriage."

Sandra's mouth drops open but no words come out. After a moment I continue.

"You should also know that I'm not one of the good guys. Not by a long shot. I told you that before, too. I've done some things..." my throat closes painfully and I almost choke. I cough and swallow and start again, forcing myself to look her in the eyes.

"I hurt my sub - my wife. My ex-wife, actually. Anyways... I'm not even sure how it got to that but - but the bottom line is I hurt her, bad. And I can't risk..."

Sandra shakes her head looking faintly dazed. "I don't understand, Dan. What do you mean, you hurt her? Hurt her how?"

I rub my hand over my eyes again feeling immensely tired all of a sudden. When I answer I almost can't recognize my own voice, it sounds so defeated. "I hurt her, Sandra. I lost my mind and I hurt her. When I heard she had found herself a new Dom... I flew out halfway around the world and tracked her down to her place and there I -"

I make myself look into her eyes again and continue, quietly determined now.

"What I did to her... I broke every rule, every agreement we ever had, even if we hadn't been divorced for two whole years. I bound and gagged her without her consent. I slapped her, even though I knew that was a hard limit. I ignored her fucking safe word. I spanked and belted her and I -"

The incredulity in Sandra's eyes is too much for me to handle. I break away from them and drop back against the cushions, hands holding my head, staring unseeingly at the white ceiling above me. The horror movie that is the memory of my attack on Naomi comes rushing back to play in my mind again, and I can't help but watch it, the wretched nausea rising and threatening to choke me any second.

I can hear nothing beyond the blood rushing in my ears and my lungs start to burn with too-heavy, too-fast breaths so it takes several long moments for the sensation of soft, warm palms squeezing and shaking my shoulders to penetrate through.

"Dan, stop. Please. You're hyperventilating. You need to stop, now." There's an urgent authority to her voice, much like there was back at the hospital. "Cup your hands and blow into them, Dan. Here, like this -"

She demonstrates quick, hard exhales into her cupped hands covering her mouth and nose, and then grabs mine and pushes them in front of my face, still puffing out like a freakin' doula coaching a woman in labor.

Somehow that does the trick though - I find myself mimicking her motions, letting her hold my hands such as to make me re-breathe the air going out of my lungs in order to counter the effect of hyperventilation. Slowly my head clears and the buzzing in my ears subsides.

My eyes re-focus and I am suddenly aware of Sandra again - really aware of her - kneeling on the couch right next to me, the hem of her white uniform dress riding up her thighs because of the way her knees are positioned, open wide to keep her balance as she was leaning over me. And she's still holding my hands in both of hers, her eyes again searching my face.

"Better?"

I nod once, mutely. Sandra lets go of my hands and slowly gets off the sofa and sits down on the coffee table, facing me.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04



"What just happened?"

Her voice is low and strained. I shake my head to clear the last of the cobwebs away before I answer.

"According to Dr. Pappas, that would be one of the symptoms associated with my PTSD. Which I'd just recently learned isn't limited exclusively to victims. Apparently we bad guys can get them, too. Poetic justice, huh?"

Sandra doesn't join my ironic, twisted sneer. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes though I get the feeling she's trying to hide it because she knows I'd reject it. Save your pity to those who deserve it, lady. Instead she reaches out to cup my injured left jaw softly in her warm palm. I feel myself clench inside at the gentle, ultra-feminine touch. For all its softness I know the feeling would be branded into my skin.. She seems to sense my discomfort because she draws back, and my jaw clenches at the loss of her touch.

"What you just told me you did, Dan... I don't know what exactly to make of it just yet. I'll need to think about it." I nod my head, not meeting her eyes. She hates me now. I should be thankful; she'd keep a safe distance. But then her fingers wrap around mine, squeezing, making me look at her.

"But here's what I know so far: I know that facing what you did drove you to attempt suicide. I know you're now in treatment. I know you get panic attacks just thinking of what you did. And I know you stopped us from taking things any further tonight because right here, right now, you're responsible and caring enough to do the right thing; because - as you told me yourself - you don't want to hurt me."

She pauses, her expression softening, a ghost of a smile showing briefly before it disappears again. "I told you back at the hospital that maybe you're not as bad as you think you are, Dan. I still feel that way. I think maybe that's why it's such a trauma for you."

She gets up and turns away, effectively preventing me from answering her, instead making her words echo in my ears, giving them a fighting chance against me inner demons. She picks up her backpack from behind the single chair and swings it over her shoulder, then turns and looks at me again.

"I like you, Dan. I really do. I don't know what it was exactly that drew me to you even back at the hospital, but maybe I sensed there was more in common between us than met the eye. And as for you not trusting yourself not to hurt me - I hope that at least you give yourself some major credit points for tonight. I know I do."

I just stare at her, not ready to acknowledge her words in any way. Sandra smiles faintly and turns towards the door. I wish there was something I could say to make her stay a little longer. Once she's out that door she'd be gone from my life. The thought slices my gut but I keep my mouth resolutely shut.

And then she stops as if remembering something else and turns to look at me, a renewed spark in her eyes.

"Hey, how about that new business of yours? Have you started on any projects yet?"

"I - what? Er, no, no I haven't started anything. Did some more planning but nothing beyond that. W-why?" Damn but she caught me off-guard again.

"Well, I actually have quite a long backlog of odd stuff that needs to be taken care of. Would you help me with it?"

I stare at her for a moment. "You serious, Sandra?" Why isn't she running out that door, dammit?

She turns back to face me fully. "Yeah, I'm serious. When can you swing by?"

I grimace, feeling a bit dizzy again, fighting to not sound like I've just got out of an emotional tornado. "As you can imagine I'm pretty much open these days... Wh - what kind of stuff do you need fixing? I - I need to make sure I've got all the tools I need."

Sandra ignores my stuttering and gives me a quick list. It's all pretty standard, and listening to her calms my nerves and allows me to gather my wits about me. I nod slowly as I contemplate the logistics.

"Yeah the workstation setup in your study and hanging the shelves in the bedroom is not a problem. Cleaning the solar panel should probably wait another week or two until I'm completely stable on my feet, and I can check the gutters at the same time if you'd like, too. As for the possible leak in the kitchen I can certainly take a look but if anything major needs doing I'd need to stock up on my plumbing equipment, so depending on the situation you may want to just call a plumber to fix it sooner rather than later."

Sandra smiles brightly at me. "Awesome! So, could you swing by tomorrow, say - 1pm or so?"

"I -"

Tomorrow?! Panic rises in my chest along with a disproportionate joy at the thought of seeing Sandra again, and so soon. Ignoring both I answer in what I hope is a friendly professional manner.

"Er, sure, ahm, tomorrow 1pm sounds good. Wanna give me your address?"

The unabashed excitement on her face is humbling. "Sure, I'll text it to you. Thanks Dan, you're a lifesaver! I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great night!"

She turns to leave and I scramble up to my feet, realizing belatedly that I should probably walk her to the door, when she stops again and smacks her forehead with her palm. "Gosh, where are my manners? My mother would be appalled if she ever heard." In a couple of strides she's back in front of me and a small smile hovers on her lips. She looks up into my apprehensive face as if measuring me up and then slowly, deliberately, reaches up with her fingers to hold on to my shoulders, their tips grazing the back of my neck. In a motion so reminiscent of earlier in the evening it feels like the craziest déjà vu she gets up to her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on my good cheek. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, Dan. I truly enjoyed all of it - the food, the company - everything. Thank you."

I smile back down at her, my palms once again resting at the sweet dip of her waist. I'm going to fantasize about this curve tonight. "It was entirely my pleasure, Sandra. Thank you for sharing it with me. And thank you for not freaking out... and for giving me much more credit that I honestly deserve." I should let go but I don't, and neither does Sandra.

We stand there for a long moment together, her hands resting atop my chest, mine curved around her back. There's low-key tension humming between us and I swear I can look straight into her soul through the wide-open windows of her eyes seeing every emotion shining through: her compassion and her generosity, her need and her courage.

You mean her naivety and recklessness, for not running as fast and as far as she can from you. Right Dan?

"Sandra, I -"

"Shhh... no. Enough talk for tonight. I'll see you tomorrow, Dan. Thank you again for dinner. Good night."

She turns and walks out the door, closing it quietly behind her shapely back, leaving me staring behind her long after she's gone.

Trust and hope. Is that really such a good mantra to live by?

~~~~~~~~

"...All right. I think it should be good now. It was just a compression joint that had worked slightly loose and needed tightening. Give it a day or two and then check for any wetness; if everything's still dry under here you're all good."

My voice sounds funny coming out from the cavern under Sandra's kitchen sink. I crawl backwards until my head clears the sink and then straighten slowly, still mindful of too-quick movements. Instead of getting up I sit back on my haunches, wiping my sweaty brow on the sleeve of my once-black T-shirt.

Still looking at the plumbing I can sense movement at the corner of my eye. My gaze shifts to focus on Sandra's bare feet coming to stand close to me, the bright pink nail polish twinkling as it reflects the overhead light. I never thought I had a foot fetish before, but now I am forced to reconsider. Sandra's feet look nimble, soft and feminine just like the rest of her, and those little toes, tipped with that ridiculous shiny hue, have real sass. Little toes with a freakin' attitude. Sexy, cheeky and overwhelmingly tempting. Fuck. Down, boy.

With effort I pull my gaze up, up the long shapely columns of pale-golden skin, over the edge where her legs disappear into the soft, well-worn cutoff jeans, further up to the V where they meet with her body. Upwards still along the brass zipper to the button that holds the denim waistline, hugging her belly in a way that makes me jealous. My eyes pause and focus for a moment on the tiny, shadowed gap between her top and her midsection, where I know the heat and the scent of her skin would be captured. I want to bury my face there, inhale her essence into my lungs. Rub my cheek against her...

An uncomfortable twinge inside my own short khakis jerks me out of my daydream and my eyes fly all the way up to clash with Sanrda's amused ones. Her face is flushed - obviously from noticing my very close scrutiny of her gorgeous body - but instead of chiding me she brings her weight forward and bends down over one leg towards me, offering her hand.

With a self-mocking grimace I accept and grasp her wrist, feeling her fingers close around mine in a solid hold as she leans her weight back. I lift up to kneel on one knee and nod my readiness to her.

Sandra leans back just a bit further and I realize she's not really going to pull me up so much as give me that minimal assistance I need to get back on my own two feet. I push myself slowly until I am upright again and she lets me bear my own weight throughout, our firmly grasped hands serving as no more than reassurance that she wouldn't let me fall.

"Thanks."

My fingers are still wrapped around her wrist and I can clearly feel her pulse fluttering against my palm. Back off, Dan. Reluctantly I release my hold and she does the same, our hands falling to our sides as we face each other in her tiny, brightly-lit kitchen. Sandra takes a small step to lean back against the counter, nodding towards the small table tucked to the wall.

"Wanna have a seat? I'll make us some coffee. Or maybe lemonade? Crushed-ice and mint-flavored?"

"You know, right now that sounds perfect. Yes please, I'd love to have that crushed-iced mint lemonade."

The smoldering heat of the mid-summer afternoon pours through her open kitchen window and it will be a couple of hours before the evening breeze starts. I take my seat and lean back, rolling my neck and shoulders a bit to release the kinks, and watch Sandra getting busy at the countertop. She reaches out to the wide window seal where a large strainer bowl sits, heaped high with fresh fruit. Picking out two plump, juicy-looking lemons she surprises me by starting to peel them.

What's she doing?

When the lemons are both peeled she puts them down on a wooden cutting board, and then uses her paring knife to quarter them lengthwise and discard all the seeds. When the fruit is ready she drops it into a waiting blender next to the sink.

Ahh... I get it. Yum.

She adds the ice cubes and a handful of mint leaves, hand-picked right in front of my amazed eyes from a small planter sitting next to the strainer on her sunlit window seal. A generous dash of sugar melted in a quarter-cup of boiling hot water completes the list of ingredients.

Within two minutes, I am slurping away the absolute best freakin' lemonade I've ever had.

"Hmm. This is really great, Sandra. Just what the doctor ordered in this heat!"

Sandra smiles her pleasure at my enjoyment. "Glad you like it, Dan. Just be careful not to take too-large gulps, I don't want you getting a brain-freeze."

I nod - she's got a point there - and slow down a bit.

"You know that's not even my best recipe." Sandra's smiling wide and I notice a faint dimple on her right cheek. I didn't know I had a thing for dimples, either.

I bite, because she so very obviously wants me to. "Oh? And what could possibly top this fine, fine iced mint-lemonade?"

Sandra chuckles. "I could have you guess, but I'll take pity on you. Let me show you instead." Getting up from her spot across the small, bare wooden table she opens her fridge and brings out a thick, semi-translucent glass bottle. Closing the fridge door with her naked heel she saunters back to me with an exaggerated swing of her hips and places the bottle on the table in front of me.

"Everything's better with a drop of Ouzo. And this one is the best."

I look at the bottle, then back at Sandra leaning casually back against the wall.

"I -" I move uncomfortably in my chair. "You sure, Sandra? It's not even 4pm..."Fuck. I sound like an old stuck-up. I half-grin apologetically at her. The truth is I think I can see where this is going. Consciously or not, Sandra wants us both to loosen up, while I, on the other hand, can't trust myself to keep my distance even with a straight head. Drinking would not help bolster my resolve.

Sandra tilts her head to the side, looking at me questioningly, and then shrugs and says lightly: "It's Saturday, Dan. You're done with your work for today and I only need to get to the hospital at 11pm tonight, so I intend to get a few good hours of sleep later this evening. But hey, you do whatever suits you. Me, I like my frozen Ouzo lemonade on a hot Saturday afternoon."

With that she reaches for the bottle again and pours a small shot into her tall glass, swirls it lightly in one hand and re-caps the liquor with the other, and then raises her glass in a tiny gesture. "Yamas!" she murmurs and takes a long, deep pull from her straw. Watching her lips wrap and tighten around it and her cheeks hollow as she sucks in the icy drink is a unique kind of torture. I reach for my own, still-virgin drink and take a hasty gulp, almost getting that wicked brain-freeze that she warned me of in the process.

The icy liquid sliding down my throat does nothing to chill my runaway imagination and I feel heat engulf me inside and out. I bunch the soft cotton of my T-shirt in my fingers and pull it away from my torso, futilely trying to fan myself. It does nothing but stick it even worse to the sweaty patches on my back.

"It's hot today, isn't it? And you've been working hard, too. Feel free to take off that T-shirt, Dan. I can even wash it for you real quick if you'd like. Quick cycle and air-dry will take no more than 45 minutes in this weather."

Man but it's tempting. "Nah, that's all right. I really should get going, Sandra. Thank you for the lemonade -"

Sandra stops me from rising to my feet by covering my fingers with her own on top of the table.

"No! I'm - I'm sorry, Dan. I didn't mean to scare you away. Please, stay." Her eyes, so clear and light just moments ago, now look deep-blue and troubled. Her small, white teeth worry her full lower lip, the small bite making it redden and swell. Fuck.

Without fully intending to I find myself holding her fingers in my own, my thumb caressing her knuckles lightly, marveling at the gentle strength in them. I don't get it. Don't get her. It doesn't make any sense at all. Finally I decide to stop second-guessing her and simply ask.

"Why, Sandra? You know who I am. You know what I am. Why seek out my company?"

Her chin sticks out in a silent challenge. "And what exactly are you, Dan?"

A pathetic loser, that's what I am. My hand leaves hers, balling in my lap instead. "I'm an abuser, Sandra. I told you what I did."

"Hmm." Sandra leans back in her chair as well, arms now crossed in annoyance. "And you're telling me that once an abuser, always an abuser? That from now on this is how you're going to treat every woman in your life?"

"I - what?! No, of course not!"

She quirks an eyebrow silently at me.

I stare right back at her, furious at first, then exasperated, and finally with resolved conviction. This one I've been thinking about, long and hard. When I speak again my voice is low, steady and clear. "I'm never going to hurt a woman again, Sandra. That's exactly why I'm keeping my distance. I'm not going to put myself in a situation where it might happen."

Sandra is taken aback at first but immediately leans forward, disbelief written all over her pretty face.

"Let me get this straight. You're telling me you're never going to have sex again? Like... ever? That's..." Crazy. I can hear her thoughts. But instead she says: "... quite extreme, don't you think?"

I answer the only way I can. "Yeah, it is extreme, but also effective. My other option was suicide... you got other suggestions?"

She shakes her head slowly, still not fully accepting my words. "So you're going to be celibate? That's your plan? I mean, what about your... needs?"

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table top, lacing my fingers together to keep from fidgeting. Embarrassing as this may be, it somehow feels right to be talking to Sandra about it. She'd already seen me at my absolute worse. She already knows my darkest secrets. She should hear this, too. I lift my eyes to look into hers.

"Well, to be honest I was thinking of going online. Keeping it completely anonymous and without any physical contact should be safe enough."

Sandra's mouth falls open with a gasp; she simply gapes at me in utter shock. A moment later she snaps her mouth shut, swallows hard, and clears her throat before speaking.

"Well, I - I guess that makes sense in many ways. I just - what about the physical part? In the end of the day it's not all in your head, right?"

I'm shocked to feel a half-smile twisting my face, even if it's only dry sarcasm. "To be honest, Sandra, I think it pretty much is... all in my head, that is. Of course a great mind fuck would ultimately culminate with some other body parts involved, but that much I can take care of by myself, you know."

I take a quick sip from my lemonade to soothe my desert-dry throat and almost choke on it when I hear her mumbled "yeah, I know" just barely audible above her breath.

"Wh - what did you say?"

Heat rises in Sandra's cheeks but she meets my gaze squarely and repeats in a stronger, steadier voice: "I know you can take care of those other body parts by yourself. I heard you doing it every night in the bathtub for the past few days."

All the air leaves my lungs in a big puff and I can't seem to suck in another breath to replace it. Ffffuck! How pathetic she must think I am. The buzzing in my ears makes me almost miss her next words.

"Truth is, I kinda liked it... I thought it was hot."

"You - wait, what?!" My tongue feels heavy in my mouth and I can barely get any words out.

Sandra slides out of her chair and walks over to me, slipping along the edge of the table to stand right in front of me, her bare legs grazing my thighs, her pelvis inside its enticingly short denim package way too close to my face for me to be able to think of anything.

"Yeah, I did. I hoped you were thinking of me..." Sandra wraps her arms lightly around my neck and moves to straddle over me, then slides slowly down until her sweet ass presses between my slightly-parted knees. I keep my own hands flat on the table. I know if I move them even an inch they're going to bury themselves in the silky tresses of her hair and hold her there immobile... No. I cannot do that. My palms fist over that darned table behind Sandra's back, knuckles turning white.

Tracing my newly-cut hairline with a feather-light touch Sandra speaks to me in a hesitant voice that bellies her bold moves.

"What if... what if I did have another suggestion?"

I stare up at her flushed, nervous face, and I think I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life. I wait.

"What if we took it one small step at a time?"

I swallow hard again. "Wh-what do you mean?"

I think she can hear my heartbeat pounding in my chest. I know I can see hers, pulsing quickly in that little dip at the center of her collarbone, just above the deep valley peeking from her scooped top. My eyes become glued to a clear drop of sweat that starts rolling southwards into that valley. I wonder if it's caused by the stifling heat or by her nerves. Both, probably. Her fingers shake slightly when they come to rest against my jaw. I lift my eyes to hers again.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04



"I mean... kissing me, for example. Is that risky? Are you going to hurt me if you kiss me?"

She holds her breath and waits. The tremor in her fingers gets worse with every second that passes without an answer, but she doesn't move away. I admire guts.

Finally, slowly, my hands lift up, leaving clammy handprints on the table top, and slowly sink into the hot, damp tresses at her nape. A barely-there sigh escapes Sandra's lips as she sinks her head back into the cradle of my palms, her eyes still fixed on mine under heavy eyelids.

I'll never hurt you, Sandra. The thought swamps my mind but I know I can't say it out loud. It would be meaningless. Just my wishful thinking. I can't really promise her that. Instead of dwelling on the bleak, uncertain future I focus on the here and now.

"Just a kiss?" My voice doesn't even sound like my own.

Sandra nods slowly, seriously, the movement rubbing the sensitive skin of her scalp against my fingertips, and then leans forward. My mouth opens to suck in a quick breath and her sweet tongue dips inside as her soft, full lips sweep over mine in a warm, wet caress, draw back for a second, and come down for more.

Much, much more.

Instinct takes over. One kiss becomes two, and then ten, over and over our mouths meet and mesh together, our tongues tangle and taste each other's need. And at the same time we're both careful - Sandra of my injuries, me of my own natural instincts - keeping my fingers from fisting in her hair; stopping my arms from wrapping too tight around her to hold her fast in place. It's a struggle, but the reward is overwhelmingly worth it. I let my hands slide and skim down her back, feeling her heat under the thin shirt.

Sandra lifts her head, her naked need shining in her eyes, honest and vulnerable.

"I want you."

I want you too.

You can't always have what you want.

I grind my teeth to keep my frustration under check. "I can't Dom you, Sandra. I won't risk it."

She nods. "I know. I get it." pause, and then - "but will you fuck me, Dan? Please?"

For some reason I feel an achy clench deep inside my chest hearing her words. This woman should have men begging at her feet. She shouldn't be settling for anything less than everything she wants. Certainly not for me.

"You deserve better, Sandra."

I can't read the expression on her face. Her hands move up to cup my face and she leans in for another sweet kiss before whispering into my lips:

"Please, Dan."

Gulping around my dry throat my admission comes out raspy and low.

"I want you too, Sandra. So much that I hurt."

A slow smile blossoms on her face. Without saying a word she lifts up and gives me her hand, and once I take it, she leads the way to her bedroom.

*

We stand facing each other in the darkened room at the foot of the smallish queen-sized bed. Sandra's eyes are hold mine as she brings her hands down to the hem of her shirt and then pulls it swiftly up and over her head, dropping it carelessly to the floor behind her back.

I inhale sharply at the sight of her swollen, heavy, creamy tits encased in half-sheer lace, sneak peeks of darker nipples teasing me through the tiny eyelets. I make no move to touch her. Not yet. Her hands go to her shorts, deftly releasing the button and zip and then her thumbs hook inside the waistband, pushing down while she wiggles her hips from side to side to clear off the widest part.

Her panties, now visible at the open fly of her peeled-back denim, match her bra - pale-lilac sheer material with a pretty lace trim one shade darker and a small satin bow in front. Like a surprise package. I love surprises.

She lets the cutoffs drop to the floor and steps out of them, walking forward, closer to me. I reach out to touch her shoulders lightly, just enough to halt her from getting any closer. Sandra complies, heeding my silent message. She seems to grow tall as she stands before me with her arms at her sides, her legs slightly parted, chest thrust up, shoulders down, chin tilted towards me.

"Like what you see?"

The tiny tremor in her voice betrays her nerves behind the cheeky challenge. I smile my approval but don't answer. Instead I let me eyes travel down her poised form, appreciating every inch of the abundant beauty before me. My right hand joins the journey, starting at the top tucking a silky strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, then tracing down her throat to her collarbone, the valley between her lush breasts, down to her navel, then out and around to the small of her back, letting the soft lace trim of her panties tickle my fingertips.

Sandra sighs softly and and her weight shifts between her legs as she widens her stance by a couple of inches and her hands come up to rest on my chest, but still she doesn't speak. she's waiting for my answer.

"I love what I see. These undies look so hot on you I think I'm gonna have you leave them on for a while longer." And then I add, mostly to myself - "They're quite the change from those basic cotton ones you usually wear under your uniforms, aren't they?"

Sandra blushes a beautiful pink. "So you noticed?"

I chuckle, my fingers still caressing the sloping tops of Sandra's deliciously curvy bottom just above the panty line at her back. "Of course I noticed. I'm a guy. Not that I'd mind those other ones, honestly. I'd just get you out of them quicker".

I wink at her and step closer still to fill each one of my palms with a round, firm, soft-skinned globe of flesh. I could swear Sandra sticks out her ass to make it easier for my fingers to capture and squeeze her warm, full cheeks.

"I wore these for you. I was hoping you'd get to see them at some point."

More blood rushes down to my already-stiff dick, making it swell and push uncomfortably against my fly. Thinking of Sandra carefully choosing this sexy set of lingerie with me in mind is almost too much to handle at this very moment, but I know I'd be re-running that little bit of information in my mind later on.

"I'm very glad you did."

Her smile is too tempting to resist and I bend to taste her lips. Delicious. I feel her arms sneak around my neck and her whole body press up into me. Skin. I need to feel her skin against mine. I break our kiss for just a moment to grab the hem of my T-shirt and almost tear it away from my body in my eagerness to take it off. Sandra's hands slide down to my now-naked chest and her fingers and mouth take turns exploring the newly-discovered territory. She seems fascinated by the mix of sensations created by skin and hair over muscle and bone. My nipples tighten to hard points in response.

I have no intention of interrupting her and settle for letting my own hungry hands run along her back and her sides, alternating long, smooth caresses with deeper rubs and the occasional squeeze. Sandra's body responds to my touch, swells into it, goosebumps flowering one moment while a hot flush spreads in the next. So fucking responsive.

For long moments we kiss and make out like school kids and all I can focus on is the exhilarating sensation of being surrounded by Sandra's heat and softness, soaking them deep into my skin. My cock is hard as stone and too uncomfortable in my pants to ignore any longer. Breaking our endless kisses I whisper into her ear:

"Get on the bed, baby."

Sandra nods in-between shallow breaths and gets onto the bed, crawling her way up on hands and knees. The sight of her juicy ass jiggling from side to side almost makes me cum on the spot, and it is with a huge effort that I stop myself from jumping her from behind. Instead I shuck my pants and boxers all at once and my relieved dick springs up to slap my belly while I bend down to clear the clothes off my feet along with my shoes, one hand holding the bed for support.

She reaches the top of the bed and flips to lean back against the high pile of pillows, and almost gives me a heart attack when she spreads her legs wide in a slow, deliberate motion, caressing her inner thighs with delicate fingers while she eyes my swollen dick hungrily, teasing both of us at the same time. I groan.

My head swims, and it has nothing to do with my injury. I'm high on lust for this woman. Naked now, I lean with both hands against the foot of the bed and bend low, staring at the floor, trying to cool some. I need to keep my head. I don't know if I can. A pang of fear jabs at me and I lift my eyes to look back at Sandra. There's desire and longing in her eyes, and, foolish as it may be, trust.Trust and hope.

"Fuck but you're gorgeous..."

I say nothing else as I climb onto the bed after her and crawl all the way up until I kneel between her widely-splayed thighs, my knees pushing them wider still, my rigid, swollen cock bobbing just above her lilac-covered pussy. There's a drop of pre-cum clinging to the very tip of my cockhead and we both watch it, mesmerized. Sandra's hands reach out to touch me but I catch them and bring them to my lips to kiss her knuckles before pushing them up and behind her head, guiding her fingers to hold on to the round wooden rails there.

"Not yet sweetheart... not yet. I promise you'll get to do anything you want to do with me... later."

Her eyes widen and turn a stormy blue when she grabs a hold of the thick rails, arching her back to press our torsos together at the same time. I feel the head of my dick gliding over her lower belly, its path slickened by that drop of pre-cum, and a wild shiver runs down my back. I rock my hips lightly back and forth to repeat the excruciatingly pleasurable sensation and then make myself pull back.Not yet. My fingers trail the ultra-soft path along the undersides of Sandra's arms down to her chest where I finally cup and lightly squeeze together the most tempting pair of boobs I'd seen on any woman before.

Sandra arches her back up again, trying to push herself harder into my palms. I oblige by kneading her breasts in deeper, fuller strokes, watching her still-untouched nipples stiffen and poke at the delicate, sheer fabric covering them.

Fuck but I need to taste them. Now.

I peel back both cups of her bra and tuck them under her breasts to fill my hands again, now with hot, naked woman flesh. I bend down to lick one erect, pinkish-brown nipple with the flat of my tongue, once, twice - fuck, so sweet! -before taking it all in my mouth to suck gently, watching Sandra's face for her reaction.

She throws her head back and moans deeply. A satisfied grunt escapes my throat as I continue to suckle on the hard, crinkled areola and nipple trapped inside the damp heat of my mouth. Finally I release her erect peak, shining with my saliva, and move to give its twin the same loving treatment. I can't get enough of the sensation of her breasts filling my palms, and my fingers keep rubbing and stroking the creamy sides of her fleshy, delicious orbs while my thumbs draw circles on the swollen, sensitive undersides.

Every time I bend over my cock brushes and slides against Sandra's abdomen, pre-cum oozing freely now trailing and smearing across her skin, but I find it surprisingly easy to ignore it. My need to learn Sandra's body, to please her, is greater than any other desire for the moment.

"Please, Dan..."

Sandra's knees fall open further and she's squirming before me. Another rush of need sweeps me and my fingers tighten momentarily on her breasts before I release her and sit back up, rubbing her inner thighs in long, smooth, seemingly-calming strokes, although I suspect I know their impact is anything but soothing. Sandra mewls and squirms some more, clearly desperate for my touch. The feeling of power is intoxicating.

"What is it that you want baby? Tell me." I keep caressing her thighs that quiver under my fingers.

"Please, please I need more... please...!"

If she were my sub I'd make her say the words.

You can't Dom her, Dan.

With a growl born of soul-deep frustration I shift backwards, hooking my fingers in the elastic waistband of her panties and pulling them down as I go. Sandra seems oblivious to my inner struggle and a breathy half-sigh, half-giggle escapes her mouth as she lifts her hips and then brings both legs up together to help me take them off. Once the flimsy garment is clear from her feet she opens them wide again as far as they can go, plants her feet back down on the bed and pushes her pelvis up in a breathtakingly uninhibited display and offers her swollen, naked pussy for me to take and do with as I please.

I chuckle my surprised appreciation and grab her ass in my hands, supporting her in her chosen position, pushing her hips upwards still by another inch or two, unable to resist challenging her just a little in that way.

"You want me to eat your pussy, baby?"

She inhales sharply and nods her head, her eyes almost all-pupils. "Yes, please!"

"Hmmm... it's gonna be my pleasure, I'm very sure..."

Kneeling between her thighs and holding her hips up like a bowl of sacred essence I bow low to press a soft kiss on her Venus hill, her downy blond fuzz tickling my lips. I nuzzle my nose in the small patch of hair, thick with the most intoxicating scent of horny female. My tongue sneaks out to take a tiny taste of the smooth outer folds underneath, and my fingers tighten their hold as Sandra responds by pushing herself higher still, trying to grind her clit into my mouth.

"Not yet baby... I wanna taste all of you first. I promise I'll take care of you, just hold on tight..."

Sandra whimpers but un-clenches her ass, letting me seize control over the pace and depth of my touch. She submits so beautifully. Fuck. Pushing the thought to the back of my mind I focus on the pink, puffy pussy before me, the larger lips pulled back by her spread-out position, the darker-pink, gleaming-wet inner folds peeking between them. I bow lower still and take a long, slow swipe all along her slit, tasting her fully for the first time.

My taste buds explode when her creamy sweetness swamps my tongue and I moan deep and low, the sound echoed in the guttural groan that rolls from Sandra's exposed, stretched-back throat. God she tastes so fuckin' good. I bend back down for more, my tongue delving deeper between her slick, velvety folds, suffusing itself in Sandra's honeyed nectar. It's been so long.

I spend long, blissful minutes licking, sucking, lapping and nibbling the most delicious pussy I've ever had. Sandra's body quivers and shakes with her need, and she alternates pushing herself up and into my mouth with relaxing back and spreading her knees even farther to give me even more access to every hidden valley, every engorged fold. Her knuckles turn white from holding on so tightly to the head rails and she moans constantly now, writhing in her pleasure and her need, her legs trembling with the effort of keeping her position, of opening herself even more to me.

And then it's not enough; I need more. I want to make her explode on my tongue, I want to feel her pussy spasm and weep as she cums. I want her to lose herself to let go completely in my arms, under my touch.

I slide my knees back until I'm flat on my belly, trapping my painfully-erect dick under my own weight. Not yet. I place my forearms on the bed and grab Sandra's hipbones with the tips of my fingers, pulling her hips down to rest between my wrists. A deep sigh from Sandra's slack, open mouth tells me the strain on her back in her previous position was more than she probably bargained for, and I give her a moment to rotate her hips in small circles letting the unwanted soreness ease.

When she relaxes back and lifts her head there's a small frown on her sweaty, flushed, beautiful face.

"Why'd you stop?"

I smile and kiss the insides of thigh just above her knee before answering. "Just giving you a chance to catch your breath baby. You ready for more?"

"Ohhh yeah, please, please give me more...!"

I smile in between kisses to her inner thighs, enjoying her building frustration made obvious by her jerky responses to each not-even-remotely-fulfilling kiss.

"Ahh, baby, you are a delight to pleasure. Relax into it sweetheart. I'm gonna make you feel so good..."

With that, I lower my mouth back onto her creamy pussy, finally focusing my attention on her stiff, swollen clit. I circle it over and over with the tip of my tongue, her juice and my saliva making it so slippery there's hardly any friction, only movement as it is rolled and pushes around and around, driving her need ever higher but clearly not enough to push her over the edge.

"Please, Dan, I need your fingers... Please rub my clit with your fingers... please!"

Fuck yeah. Tell me exactly what you want baby, just like that.

I can't respond in words, but I wrap my left arm further under her and tighten to keep her in place, and to take my weight off my right hand. I suck two fingers into my mouth to wet them and then bring them down to slide up and down Sandra's slit, coating them further in her thick juice, the very tips rubbing lightly up and down on both sides of her straining clit.

"Ahhhh... Yessss... Right there, please, right there...!"

Fuck but she's amazing.

"You're such a good girl for telling me what you need, Sandra... such a good fucking girl for me..."

I don't even notice the words that slip my lips, unchecked. I would only realize them later. But right now, neither one of us cares. My fingers sink deeper, locking Sandra's clit between the tips of my index and middle fingers and I start vibrating my hand, hard and fast. Sandra shrieks and bucks and starts panting hard, breathing incoherent half-sentences between huffs and puffs and choked wails.

"Oooh, oooh, ooh, yeah... oooh yeah right there ahhhh!... ohmygod ohmygod... ohmygod so close... please... oooh, ooh, ahhhhhhhhhh!!"

And then her breath catches as she starts cumming, a small gush of hot girl cum soaking my fingers as her hips buck sharply up, once, twice, three times, staying frozen up at the pinnacle for endless seconds, absorbing every last vibration from my still-dancing fingers before collapsing down, detaching herself from the source of pleasure that had instantly turned too much, her feet losing their purchase and sliding down the slippery sheets until she is flat on her back, lewdly spread, chest heaving as she tries to regain her breath.

I return my hand to her now-soaked snatch and rub gently up and down her folds, carefully avoiding her too-sensitive clit, and then, watching her face closely, I move my hand lower still to slowly sink two slippery fingers deep, deep into her tight channel.

Her heat engulfs me and I feel her inner muscles spasm and contract around the intruding digits while her eyes, previously closed, fly open to re-focus on my face, gasping.

"Fuck!"

I smile, although it feels strange across my face that is taut with arousal. I start moving my hand, fucking her pussy slowly with my fingers. Sandra gasps again and her walls clench hard and suddenly it's too much for me.

"I need to fuck you, Sandra. Now."

Nodding as if in a trance Sandra smiles - a tired, dazed, still-lustful smile - and motions with her head to the small table at the side of her bed.

"Condoms in the bottom drawer."

It takes me less than 30 stumbling, fumbling seconds to get the rubber on, and then I climb back to the bed next to Sandra. The short pause helps clear my head a bit and I release her arms and hands which must have gotten numb from holding on to their position for so long. I reach out and gently pry them loose, bringing them down to rest on her belly and then take each palm in my hands in turn, massaging and rubbing to get the blood flowing. She winces but says nothing, letting me do whatever I deem necessary. I feel the rush sweeping through me again.




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 04



Finished, I take both her hands in mine. "C'mon baby, up you go. I want you to straddle me."

Sandra lets me help her up to her knees and once I settle back she leans over me, hands on my shoulders, and brings one leg over both of mine to straddling my thighs. Her breasts are still pushed up by the bra tucked under them but that would no longer do - I want them free to bounce and jiggle when she rides me; I want her completely, gloriously naked.

I reach behind Sandra's back to unhook her bra. "Take it off, baby." I say but it isn't necessary as she's already half-way done by the time I make my request. I fill my hands with her beautiful tits again, rubbing over the shallow pink indentations at her sides where the elastic pressed into her skin, wanting to take away any discomfort from her. I want this to be only about pleasure.

Finally I can't wait a second longer. I grab the base of my cock to point it straight up, it's swollen, purple head poised at her entrance. I look into her eyes. She looks straight back, ready, waiting. I nod. She starts sinking down, impaling herself inch by slow inch onto my ice-hard dick. I feel her inner muscles stretch to accommodate me and close my eyes to absorb the unparalleled sensation of being consumed by hot, wet, tight pussy. Sandra keeps descending until I bottom out and her ass is settled tight against my body.

My eyes open and lock with hers again. Our breaths mingle. Our freakin' minds mesh. My arms wrap tight around her and I grab hold of her ass in one, her neck in the other, while her hands come up to wrap around my shoulders, holding my head in her palms.

Now it's her turn to give me a slight nod, her lips curved up in a knowing grin. I feel my heartbeat pound against my ribs. I smile back a real, predatory, all-male smile.

"Yeah baby. Let's fuck. Hold on tight."

And indeed it is all she can do to hold on to my neck and shoulders as I start thrusting into her, the first two or three slow, controlled strokes quickly transforming into sharp, hard thrusts that slam our bodies together, growing ever jerkier, ever more out of control with every passing second.

Pleasure grows and coils inside me. Sandra lets me lead her, her body following the crazy pace I set, but every now and then she stops and grinds down hard, rubbing her mound back and forth onto my hard pubis, pleasuring herself against me. Her movements make my swollen, aching balls rub against her cream-soaked perineum while her tunnel milks my shaft, pulsing and tightening all around me. It's heaven and hell all at once. I want it never to stop and I want to cum NOW.

More fucking, more grinding, more fucking still, building us both higher and higher until suddenly I feel her squeeze me so tight that I am instantly sent flying over the edge of the most powerful orgasm of my life. I feel the cum boiling and rushing up to shoot and spill out in huge, heavy spurts that are just barely contained inside the condom buried deep, deep inside of Sandra's clenching belly.

"Ahhhhhh ffffffffhhhhhhuuuuuuccckkkk!"

I shout my release, vaguely aware of Sandra's echoed cries of pleasure, shaking and trembling with the force of my release, my heart pounding so hard it must be heard in the next building over.

I collapse back, slouching down against the headboard and Sandra follows, her forehead pressed to the crook of my neck and her hot, quick puffs of air swirling the hairs on my chest. Her arms are still wrapped around my shoulders and my own hands release their grip of her fine, fine ass and slide up her sweaty back, stroking and rubbing, growing smoother and lighter as we finally catch our breaths.

We stay in that dream-like state for a while until finally I feel Sandra stir and lift her head. Our gazes meet and hold.

"You okay baby?" I don't try to hide the apprehension in my voice. This fuckingmatters.

Sandra smiles and leans forward, giving me a slow, sweet kiss, and straightens up again to look back into my eyes.

"I am a bezillion times better than 'okay'. That was incredible... Thank you, Dan."

I shake my head, feeling that tightening in my chest again. She's thanking me for fucking her?

"Sandra, you are most definitely a bezillion times better than 'okay'. You're one absolutely amazing lady, and that was the best freakin' sex of my life... Vanilla or otherwise."

It's true, too. It would freak me out a bit when I think about it later, but right now I'm not going to pretend she didn't rock my world.

Her smile is so dazzling it could light up the night's sky on a deserted island. And then a twinkle of mischief enters her eyes when she leans in and mumbles into my ear: "If that was vanilla I may yet be a convert... though I think you may want to reconsider your definitions, Dan."

I inhale sharply and shake my head slowly. "Baby, I feel too good to think about definitions right now." I roll her over to her back and come after her for a quick kiss on her amused, knowing lips before rolling away and out of bed and walking on wobbly feet over to the bathroom.

"I think now may be a good time for your nap before your night shift, baby. I'm gonna take a shower and then come back to join you, all right?"

Her half-asleep, mumbled reply brings a new smile to my face. I get rid of the used condom in the bin and walk into the shower for a quick, refreshing wash. Stepping out of the spray I dry myself with Sandra's pink-and-purple floral bath towel and then stand naked in front of the large mirror, looking at myself above the sink.

"If that was vanilla I may yet be a convert..."

Was that vanilla? Would sticking to this be safe? Could I be a convert? Damned if I know. I guess I have a lot to talk about with Dr. Pappas on our next meeting.

In the meantime, it is all I can do to trust and hope.

For the first time in a couple of years, I see a tentative smile spread on my face in the mirror.

~~~~~~~

Author's note: Did you like this story? Please tell me. VOTE, FAVORITE and above all - COMMENT!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 05



Author's note: 

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and then ended up at the hospital where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew over the weeks following his release when she provided homecare services and they became lovers after Sandra all but jumped Dan at her place. Sandra rather enjoys the occasional glimpses of Dan's true dominant nature, while Dan struggles as he fears succumbing to it would put Sandra at risk. 

In this chapter: Dan works to find a new equilibrium with the help of his shrink, Dr. Pappas, Sandra messes it up with some fun ideas of her own. 

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoy it! 

PS - Grovel to my co-creator and editor, the one and only Brit! ;-) 

~~~~~~~ 

Brits' note: 

Beer and grovel would be better :-) 

~~~~~~~ 

I gradually become aware that the sweet-smelling warm nakedness I've been hugging closely to my stirring midsection isn't part of my dream, but rather belongs to a living, breathing, sleeping beauty. With my eyes still closed I spoon myself closer to her curvy backside letting my stiffening dick nestle snugly between her smooth ass cheeks and bury my nose in the hair at her nape, breathing in her scent. 

God she smells so good. She feels so good in my arms. 

"Mmmm..." 

Sandra's sleepy murmur is muffled by the pillow as she wiggles her ass back at me, apparently enjoying my swelling member rubbing along her crack. I wrap my arm more tightly around her waist and palm her breast, cradling its heaviness and kneading it gently while my hips start rocking shallowly back and forth. Sandra stretches, the movement pushing her breast more firmly into my hand while her butt rubs me in slow circles. I hug her even closer to nuzzle her neck, pushing her hair to the side, exposing that sensitive patch of skin which beckons me to kiss and nibble it. 

"Mmmm...!" 

I chuckle at her much-more-excited murmur and the even harder wiggle of her delicious derriere against my semi-hard cock. I kiss down her neck to her shoulder and she responds by turning her cheek into her pillow while leaning her whole body towards me, thus exposing the length of her neck in obvious invitation. Smiling I let my mouth trail back up the side of her slender throat, watching goosebumps flare down towards her chest and her nipples harden, their areolas crinkling and darkening around them. 

Taking one hard nubbin and rolling it between my thumb and forefinger I watch it elongate while her whole breast swells under my palm, begging for more. Keeping my touch light and teasing I turn to take her tender earlobe between my lips and suck on it gently, and then graze it with my teeth, and am rewarded with a slight shudder and an open-mouthed gasp. 

A moment later her hand sneaks back and slides down between our spooned bodies until she finds and circles my dick, tightening her hold around me as she starts pumping slowly up and down my shaft. 

"Aarrggghhh...!" 

Now it's my turn to gasp and jerk against her hand, my head thrown back to inhale sharply at the sweet pressure quickly building in my loins. After a few sharp draws of air my head clears enough to regain some measure of control over myself. 

"So this is how you like to play this baby...? I'm game for that..." 

My hand leaves her breast to slide down her hip and along her thigh to just above her knee, where I grab hold and nudge her leg open, thrusting my own thicker, rougher thigh in between her smoothness and planting my foot on the bed, hooking her leg back behind my upturned knee and opening her pretty pussy to my touch in one decisive motion. 

Sandra makes a breathy little squeal that sounds much more delighted than protesting and her hand tightens even further around my cock, intensifying her pumping. I lift myself onto my elbow and peek over her shoulder and down her heaving torso to her beautifully spread-open folds and my fingers tingle with their need to plunge right into her hot dampness, but I resist. 

Not yet. 

Instead I bring them up to her face and glide lightly along her succulent lips. Immediately her tongue sneaks out to lick my fingertips and invite them in. I oblige, letting Sandra dictate the pace as she slowly dips her head and sucks my fingers deep into her mouth, her eyes closed as she savors the taste and texture of my skin as if it were candy, her tongue rubbing deliciously up and down the length of my digits. 

She times her sucking to the pumping of her fist around my now-throbbing dick and for a moment I am almost overwhelmed with sensation. Breathing sharply through my nose I pull my glistening fingers from her mouth and bring them down to pinch her nipple with just a tiny more pressure than before. Her eyes fly open and she yelps, and at the same time I can see her nether lips flutter in response and a glimmer of wetness appear at her exposed opening. 

"Please..." 

"Mmmm... what, baby? Tell me what you want." 

She can't seem to respond in words; instead she clenches her ass and pushes her pelvis forward, opening herself even more. 

"Please... Please!" 

God how I'd love to make her say it. 

You can't Dom her, Dan. 

Damn. 

With a muttered curse I reach my hand down to her splayed pussy and slide my fingers, wet from her mouth, along her engorged labia. Sandra releases my cock completely and rolls fully onto her back, arching up, pressing herself into my fingers, forgetting anything and everything as all of her senses focus on the pleasure building between her legs. I feel a surge of satisfaction rise and sweep through me at her abandoned submission to my control over her body, over the pace and direction of our lovemaking. 

That's it babygirl. Give yourself to me. 

I stroke up and down, long and full, letting my calloused fingers graze her clit in every passage. The little nubbin swells under my touch, and when my fingertips reach her tight opening they are sucked in by the squeezing pulses of her inner muscles, gathering her cream and smearing it back up her slit on their return trip. 

"Oh God yes, please... yes..." 

Sandra bucks her hips in time to my strokes as I keep sliding my fingers along her slit letting her pussy suck them in deeper and deeper, indulging myself in the unbelievable softness. God I've missed the feeling of hot, wet, super-soft woman under my fingers. Her vaginal walls tighten with every plunge trying to lock my fingers inside her and with every squeeze she lets out a small whimper, lifting her ass even higher, screwing herself onto my hand. I curl my fingers to start rubbing her g-spot and her hips buck sharply at the contact, a small gush of girl juice soaking my fingers at the same time. 

"Oooh-oooh-oooh... ohmygod...!" 

Sandra's voice raises a half-octave to make small mewling sounds while I focus my touch on that sweet spot inside of her. Her hand which was stroking my cock earlier is now trapped under the small of her back, the other one still buried under her pillow. Her whole body is stretched open before me, writhing and quivering, every supple curve glistening with sheen of sweat. 

So fucking beautiful. I feel my breath catch in the back of my throat as my eyes roam up and down her body. Fuck. So perfect. Sandra's small gasps and moans become higher, breathier, more desperate, her belly flexing, her thighs shaking with her effort as she strives to reach for her climax. 

"That's it baby... there you go... you wanna cum baby?" 

"Fffffuck yeah.. yes please, please, please...!" 

She's almost incoherent and I just barely keep myself from blowing my load all over her bucking hips. Fuck but I love hearing her beg for me to make her cum. 

I keep rubbing that same spot just inside her tight, soaked tunnel, fast and hard now, my fingers making loud wet noises and my palm bumping into her labia, adding small spanks to her protruding, dark-red clit in tandem with the relentless inner massage. 

"You're such a good girl baby... go ahead, cum for me baby... that's it, cum for me babygirl..." 

Sandra's whole body starts to jerk a little harder, a little less coordinated, her muscles shaking slightly with her effort and I feel her bear down and swell inside until with a loud cry she starts cumming, her pussy spasming hard enough to hurt around my fingers and flooding with hot, creamy girl cum that coats my whole hand and then drips down to her ass crack and further down to soak into the bed sheet below. 

I keep stroking inside her drenched folds, slowing my movements when I feel her shudders subside and become soft and sporadic. Finally I let my fingers slip out of her clenching insides and instead go back to rubbing gently up and down her glistening slit, cushioning her descent. 

The tension has mostly left her body and she lies back lethargically except for her still-heavy breathing and the light tremors passing through her body. Her legs are splayed wide open with her knee still hooked behind mine, one hand trapped under her hips and between our bodies, the other under her pillow. An abundance of hot feminine flesh generously offered to my hungry eyes. 

God she's so fucking beautiful like that. All sweet, sweaty, satiated woman. Damn! 

Now that my focus is no longer on pleasuring her I become aware of just how burning my own need had become. My dick is throbbing, pressing hard into her soft hip seeking some kind of relief and drooling precum all over. 

I need to fuck her, NOW. 

I shift back to untangle our legs and then move over to settle between Sandra's thighs, pulling her hands out and placing them around my neck before leaning down into a slow, deep kiss. The slide of her tongue against mine almost pushes me over the edge and I break our kiss and throw my head back, inhaling sharply. I just barely manage to stop myself from exploding. 

Fuck! 

When I open my eyes and look down at her I catch her smile - equal parts temptation and pure womanly smugness, just begging to be challenged and shown her match. 

"Oh baby... you don't know what you're doing looking at me like that." 

Sliding my aching, pulsing cock along her slit I split her creamy folds open, feeling them kiss and cling to my sensitive underside like an enthusiastically sucking mouth. I lower my forehead to rest against hers as we both look down, watching my dark-red, gleaming cockhead, its small slit oozing clear pre-cum, disappearing and reappearing between our bodies, sliding along her swollen pussy. I press down even harder as I continue to torture us both, rubbing up and down over Sandra's hyper-sensitive clit with my painfully erect dick, relishing the spike of pleasure that shoots straight into my heavy balls with each passage. 

Sandra's body - which only moments ago was laying soft and spent against the bedding - tenses up again, her arms holding onto my neck and shoulders as she starts rocking her pelvis against mine, beginning her ascent towards another peak. I hold myself still and let her work for it, work for me, suck my rigid shaft with her nether lips until I can feel my cum starting to boil again in my balls and I break her hold to kneel back, putting some space between our bodies and letting the cool air swirl around my bobbing cock and chill me for just a moment. 

"Noooo... come back to me!" 

Her arms reach up to me and her voice sounds desperate, needy. Just the way I like it. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Catching her hands before they make contact with my throbbing cock, ignoring my own burning need for just another moment, I bring them up to place a soft kiss on their knuckles. She bucks and sways her hips seductively; I ignore the blatant invitation. 

"What do you want baby?" 

"You, please... please I want you!" 

"You have me right here baby." 

My smile widens and so do her eyes when she catches onto my little game. Her throat convulses when she swallows hard, closing her eyes, but then she opens them and they shine bright blue light at me, meeting my challenge with fierce determination. 

"Please Dan, I need you to fuck me so bad... Please, please, please fuck me hard, please...!" 

My smile turns feral. Fuck yeah. Holding onto my sanity by a thread I keep still and answer in a low, almost-steady voice: 

"That's my good girl... you beg so beautifully baby. It will be my absolute pleasure to fuck you as hard as you want; Now reach over and grab me a condom will you?" 

With an enthusiastic nod she half-rolls towards her nightstand and stretches as far as she can to reach the small cardboard box in the drawer, and with trembling fingers she fumbles for the condom while I draw deep pleasure both from the view of her generous curves and from her apparent lack of control over her finer movements. 

"There!" 

Sandra pushes the slippery rubber into my hand, barely coherent, desire smoldering in her eyes. 

"Thank you baby. You may play with yourself while I get this fucking thing on..." 

Sandra doesn't need to be told twice; her hands move up to knead and pinch at her breasts, tweaking and pulling at her nipples harder than I'd have thought she'd like, and then her right hand slides down over her belly to find her clit and start circling it with the flat of her fingers. Every few moments she slides her slender digits further down to fuck herself as deep as she can reach, getting them coated in thick, clear honey before sliding back up to rub her red, protruding clit again. It distracts me so badly I almost tear the condom trying to put it on. 

Finally I get that damned protection properly seated. I guess I should be thankful for the necessary pause; it would give me a chance to hold on long enough. 

I take my covered dick in my hand and place it at her glistening opening. Her fingers increase their pace over her clit until all I can see is a blur of movement, her back arching and small gasps and mewls escape her open mouth. 

I sink into her slowly, savoring the incredibly wet slickness parting and wrapping itself around my throbbing cock. Her body draws me into her heat. I stretch out over her putting my weight on my forearms under her shoulders and feel her legs come up to wrap around my hips and her arms reach up to tighten at my neck pulling me down onto her, into her. I follow her lead and sink deeper still until I'm fully sheathed inside her and her pliant, warm body cushions mine from chest to hips. 

I hold her head in my hands, our faces mere inches apart and our shallow gasps blending together as I start to rock slowly against her. The feel of her tunnel squeezing and milking my dick is phenomenal, but it is the full-body skin-to-skin sensation that makes my breath catch in my throat. It feels like every inch of my body is hugged in welcome, wholeheartedly accepted. 

It feels right. 

Our eyes lock together as my hips start moving harder, backing up only to thrust in stronger, fuller strokes. She responds honestly, openly, uninhibited in her need, arching up and angling herself to take me wholly into her body, her thighs locking me to her, her hips rising to meet mine, her mouth open and panting with her rising passion. 

"Ohmygod Dan it feels so good, please fuck me harder, please, please fuck me harder!" 

Damn but her begging gets to me. I feel my balls tingling and my cock throbbing to the beat of my heart. 

"Fuck yeah baby. Hold on tight." 

I grab her shoulders and brace my knees against the bed and start fucking her for real, my whole body moving, driving my cock harder and faster into her. Sandra holds me tighter still, throwing her head back and crying out every time my pistoning cock plunges into her hot cunt - 

"Oh - oh - oh - oh - ooooooh!!" 

That last one comes out as a high-pitched squeal as her tunnel spasms and squeezes my cock rhythmically, sending me flying into my own impending climax. The cum that had been boiling in my balls rushes up my shaft and shoots out in thick spurts, filling the condom up to capacity as pleasure explodes and sweeps through me, leaving my skin burning, flushed and sweaty. 

Her sweet pussy keeps milking me and I jerk in response, almost too sensitive now but unable to refuse her anything, grinding myself against her, watching her flushed face thrown back in abandon, her expression somewhere between exuberance and agony as she presses herself up into me and tightens her inner walls one last time before she lets go and releases me to lie back spent and heaving on the rumpled, damp sheets. 

I become aware of the slight trembling in the muscles of my arms and shoulders and roll over to my side before collapsing, too, huffing and puffing as if I'd just run a mile. 

The room spins slowly around me while I wait for my breathing to return to normal but I can't bring myself to mind about the dizziness when everything else feels so damn good. Once it passes I open my eyes and look at Sandra, finding her eyes smiling contentedly at me. 

"That sure beat my alarm clock. I may wanna keep you around." 

I feel the smile spread on my own face as I cup her shoulder and lean down to playfully bite and then kiss that intriguing spot where her breast disappears into her armpit, getting a breathy giggle in response. Raising my head I look over her to the night stand. 

"Got time for a quick dinner before your night shift starts? 

Her smile widens. "Absolutely. Shower first?" 

* 

* 

* 

After eating at a cozy cafe seated at an outside table on the sidewalk and watching the people walking up and down the street, we stroll our way to the hospital. We say our goodbyes with a hug and a kiss that turn almost inappropriate for the public setting and then part with a small laugh when a colleague of Sandra's sounds a wolf's whistle loud enough to break into the lustful haze clouding our brains. 

"Have a good night shift, baby. Talk tomorrow?" 

"Sure. I'll probably sleep the morning off but will give you a call when I get up. You got any plans for your Sunday afternoon?" 

"Nothing major. Probably going to see Jon at some point but haven't firmed up yet." 

"Okay, we'll talk tomorrow then. Have a good night, too." 

Sandra reaches up and gives me another soft kiss before turning on her heel and walking into the hospital building, the automatic sliding doors opening and closing behind her back. I watch through the glass panels until she turns the corner at the end of the wide corridor and disappears from my view. 

Damn. 

I feel like a schoolboy completely taken with his first crush, and it's not entirely a bad feeling. 

* 

* 

* 

We find ourselves following a routine similar to the one we had the week before, when Sandra was still my home care nurse. Working around her busy schedule between her shifts and her school we find time to be together every day. But now we mostly meet at Sandra's place as it minimizes her commute time, and I enjoy the walks to and from my own apartment earlier in the morning or later in the evening when the sun isn't blazing and there's a bit of breeze in the humid air. 

I find it easier to think as I walk. The monotony of my paces seems to clear my mind and calm my emotions, making everything seem so much simpler: I really like Sandra. She seems to like me, too. As long as I don't let my dominant side run amok we should be fine. 

Or so I hope. 

Damn. Not good enough. 

I need to talk with Dr. Pappas. 

* 

* 

* 

"So, Dan, what have you been up to in the last few days?" 

It is my Friday appointment, my fourth shrink session overall. On Tuesday we pretty much picked up from where we left off last week and talked mainly about the problems Naomi and I had trying to get pregnant; the problems which eventually lead to our divorce. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 05



It was a tough conversation in which I had to face quite a few uncomfortable truths about myself. For one I was confronted with how weak I'd been - how submissive - in my compliance to my father's wishes, which dictated producing a son to carry on the family line above all other duties. At the time I had embraced those 'family values' that he'd talked about with the same zeal that the old man did. But following the thought process laid out by Dr. Pappas' deceptively simple questions I quickly came to see what was, until that point, a huge blind spot: Ten years into our marriage, Naomi had every right to expect herself to be my main familial loyalty. 

But she wasn't. No wonder she never contested the divorce but rather just picked up and left. Smart lady. 

My self-reproach returned with a vengeance and I almost had another panic attack right there in the cozy little clinic. Dr. Pappas took it as an opportunity to practice relaxation techniques. He kept telling me that 'it's not about judging what you did before; it's about deciding what you're going to do from now on', but I still felt like kicking myself in the balls. Those 'what if's' are damn hard to ignore. 

When I got my emotions under control again we talked a bit about my post-divorce depression and how my father's illness and death had contributed to it. Putting that title to it - "depression" - was something I had objected to quite firmly; Dr. Pappas calmly countered that "if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck..." He softened his words by saying it didn't make me 'a crazy person', but rather meant I was 'a person experiencing mental difficulties' that were 'actually quite common'. I wasn't sure I was buying it but we agreed to continue talking about it on the next session. 

* 

And now the next session had arrived and I don't want to talk about my depression anymore. Or rather I do, but with a very specific goal in mind. 

I want to know if there's a risk I'd go crazy again and hurt another woman - Sandra this time. So when Dr. Pappas asks me what I've been up to I take the opportunity to push straight to the heart of the matter. 

"Well doc, actually, I've been seeing a woman. And I wanted to talk to you about it." 

Dr. Pappas eyebrows shoot up in interest and he leans forward in his chair. 

"All right Dan. Tell me about her then." 

* 

* 

* 

"Sandra, we need to talk." 

We're cuddled together on the couch watching our national soccer team struggle to score on its second game of the World Cup. We know we're not going to even make it to the top sixteen but it's still fun to watch, and we've turned it into a bit of a party, wearing our flag-colored jerseys over boxer shorts, beer and munchies on the low coffee table, enjoying the Mundial atmosphere in Sandra's living room. 

It's now close to midnight on Friday night and I've been working up my courage to start this conversation ever since I got back from the clinic. As the game draws to its inevitable close - putting a lid on our national hopes for the tournament - I can no longer postpone our talk. I know we can't go to bed tonight without speaking first. 

Sandra tenses up at my words and turns her alarmed eyes at me. "Are- are you dumping me?" 

"I - what?! No. No! I'm not... Shit, I didn't mean it to freak you out baby. I'm sorry. I just want us to talk. I've been doing some thinking... about us." 

She relaxes only a little, her face still marred with her unease. "Okay... It's just that in my experience a conversation that starts with 'we need to talk' never ends well." 

I try to smile reassuringly although in truth I'm nervous as hell, too. "I promise you that I want you very much baby. That's a given, alright?" 

Sandra nods and smiles briefly. "Okay, I guess that sounds a little less scary. And just so we're clear on the subject you should now that I want you, too." 

"Thanks baby. But - but here's the thing..." I gulp and cough, then start again. "Why? Why would you want me?" 

I'd asked her a similar question before, when she was nice enough to hang out with me at the hospital, that night when I couldn't sleep. She said then I was good company and she liked me, but that's not enough to explain the way she all but propositioned me last week, effectively pushing our relationship to the next level. And though I can guess why she was interested in me I need her to tell me so that I know for sure. Then we could build from there, or so Dr. Pappas said. 

'Honest communication, Dan. Be clear about what you want from each other, about what each one of you is looking for, and about what you can and cannot do in this relationship.' 

Sandra stiffens under my arm and looks down at her hands, picking her fingers absently. Finally she mumbles under her breath: 

"You know why, Dan." 

I feel my breath catch. Damn. I was afraid she'd say that. I lift her head back up to look at me. 

"Because you're looking for someone who'd dominate you in bed." I state quietly, repeating what she revealed to me back at the hospital. The soft-spoken words still ring between us in the suddenly quiet apartment. 

She blinks - clear blue eyes locked with mine, her surprise turning into a fierce, unapologetic look. "Yes. I'm looking for a man who would dominate me sexually, and who would at the same time respect me as his equal outside of the bedroom. Like I feel that you do." 

I nod. "Yeah. I do." and then I add, trying to keep my self-doubts out of my voice but failing miserably - "but how would you ever be able to fully trust me - knowing what I did?" 

Her expression softens at the pain in my words. "Dan... Yes, I know what you did. I also know how deeply you regret it, and the steps you've been taking to make sure you never do it again. I know how committed you are to that. I know the lengths you go to to keep yourself from risking anybody. I admire you for that." 

I shrug her praise off. I am so far from being worthy of any admiration it's not even funny. 

"What, talking to the shrink twice a week? I wouldn't call that going to any lengths." 

"I mean attempting suicide as a preventative measure to keep others safe. I mean denying yourself the right to Dom anyone - even an eager partner - because you feel it may push you down a slippery slope that would end as badly as your last relationship." 

Her eyes now shine with her conviction as they lock with mine. Her ferocious defense of my character humbles me, and I find myself choking back a wave of emotion before I can reply. 

"I, I - thank you for that, Sandra." I clear my throat before I continue. "But still... If we were to play together - if I were to dominate you in any way and still keep you safe - it would need to be under my terms." 

She bursts out laughing - "I wouldn't have it any other way!" - and it takes me a moment to figure out what's so funny. When I do I find myself chuckling despite myself, shaking my head ruefully. 

"Yeah, I guess that would be a given, huh?" 

Sandra nods, still smiling, and I grimace and try again. "What I meant is there are things you may expect to happen in a scene - that would seem pretty basic to you - that I won't be willing to do." 

"You mean limits?" 

My head snaps up, startled at her question. "I - I hadn't thought about it like that but - yeah, I guess so. With my baggage... there are quite a few more limits for me than you'd expect from a Dom." 

Sandra bows her head and focuses on her fingers, wringing again in her lap. Finally she looks up at me. 

"Okay. Just so you know though... I'm not that experienced a submissive. I really wouldn't know what's 'expected' to happen in a scene, or what kind of limits Doms usually have. I've never even talked about it with anyone before. I had a few boyfriends who would occasionally spank me or blindfold me or be rough with me, but I don't think I'd ever been in a real 'scene'." 

Well DAMN. I was so focused on myself, my issues and my insecurities, that I completely lost sight of her. Shit. 

Strike one, Dan. 

The kick of adrenaline realizing my mistake makes my heart pound faster and my muscles twitch restlessly. I feel like jumping up from the couch and pacing, but instead I take a deep breath and release it slowly, consciously relaxing my body, employing one of those little techniques Dr. Pappas had me practice. I'm half-surprised to find how well it works. 

After another moment I'm calm enough to speak again. I look back into Sandra's face and see her worrying her lower lip with her teeth, clearly uneasy with her confessed lack of experience. I let the back of my fingers trace down her downy-soft cheek to her chin and with my thumb I release the offended lip from the sharp grip holding it captive. 

"Baby, thank you for telling me that. I admit I assumed you had a bit more experience given how clear you were on what you were looking for... that was my mistake; I shouldn't have assumed anything. Now I do want us to have a proper conversation about limits - both yours and mine - but I think we should take a little more time preparing for it. Especially as it's going to be your first time really thinking it through." 

She looks a bit disappointed but then answers with a tongue-in-cheek "yes, sir!" which makes my cock twitch and my heart skip a beat at the same time. Fuck! 

With a low growl I take her face in my hands and kiss her deeply, my tongue delving in between her still-smiling lips. A moment later I feel her moan into my mouth and return the favor, letting her tongue explore and glide along mine, her soft lips open and pliant under my mouth. 

Fuck yeah. That's more like it, baby. 

Sandra's hands snake under my shirt and around my torso and she scratches my back lightly, pressing closer to me as we kiss, and while I keep one hand buried in her sweet-smelling hair I reach down with the other, gliding along her side - her waist, her hip, her thigh - curving around and sinking into the soft naked skin at the back of her leg and urging her to move over me and straddle me on the sofa. 

As soon as she does she starts rocking her hips gently back and forth, her tight cotton boxers clinging to the contours of her pussy between her widely-spread legs. My dick responds to the sight and the sweet movement with enthusiasm. Sandra smile and reaches down between us starting to rub up and down my quickly-swelling bulge. I groan my appreciation and grab the hem of her jersey. 

"Hands up baby. Just for a moment I promise, and then you can go back to it..." 

With a smirk she shifts her weight back and raises her arms obediently. I feel my cock twitch again at the sight and take my time getting the jersey off, raising the hem inch by inch. Once her glorious tits are fully exposed I bunch the material in my left hand behind her back, tightening it across her chest, and with my right hand I cup and lift one heavy globe, holding it up as I bend down to take the pretty pink tip into my mouth. 

Sandra's head rolls back as a gasp escapes her arched throat, while her hands drop to hold onto my shoulders. Fuck she's sexy like that. I spend long, luxurious moments lost in the heaven of her creamy breasts with their cherry-pink nipples, licking, sucking and nibbling on them until I hear a soft little whine and her hips rock harder, pressing and grinding her pussy onto my hard cock through our underwear. 

The jolt of pleasure from that sweet contact makes me gasp, releasing her puckered nipple from my lips. Looking up at her flushed face I smile and shift my hand down to her hip. Grabbing hold at her hip bone I start guiding her pelvis as it rocks against mine, keeping the rhythm nice and easy. 

"So, babygirl... as long as we haven't yet had that conversation... how about some vanilla fun tonight?" 

The mischievous glint in her eyes should have tipped me off, but her answer still manages to steal my breath for a moment when it comes through her wide, smug smile. 

"Ooooh absolutely yes, sir!" 

The playful little spank that lands on her cotton-covered tush draws a surprised squeal out of her throat. I rub the tiny sting away as I lean closer to her ear. 

"Smart-mouth... keep up the bratty attitude and you'll need those limits sooner than you realize..." 

She responds by grinding her pussy onto my cock again and it is all I can do not to flip her on her back and fuck her senseless right there on the couch. Instead I press her even harder into me and kiss her lush, smiling lips again, and it's another minute before either one of us draws enough air to speak. 

"Bedroom, now." Is all I can get through the haze of lust in my head. 

"Yes, sir!" comes her now-to-be-expected reply, openly giggling at my mock-thunderous scowl. Damn but my palm itches. She wiggles quickly off my lap and dashes into the bedroom, getting the jersey completely off and waving it behind her back before throwing it carelessly to the floor as she disappears behind the door. 

Flopping back against the cushion I take another moment to compose myself taking deep, slow breaths. I'm going to keep it vanilla tonight if it kills me. The rate that she's going, it just might - for real. Shaking my head at myself I follow Sandra into the darkened room. 

* 

* 

* 

We made a date to talk about our limits on the next Friday so that we'd each have plenty of time to think it through, and also for me to have a couple more meetings with Dr. Pappas before we actually took that next step. He had already reassured me that he didn't see any immediate risk in my playing a more dominant role with Sandra, and promised we would continue to re-evaluate the situation on every meeting for as long as we both deemed it necessary. 

I learned that the evaluation focused on identifying violent emotions towards others, and specifically towards Sandra. When Dr. Pappas first took me through it we had stumbled upon some difficulties considering questions like "Do you feel like you'd want to physically hit this person if you were alone in a room with them?". 

Quickly enough, though, we figured out the necessary tweaks - e.g. adding "without their consent" to every given situation, or change the word 'hit' to 'harm'. That worked; I'd passed my first evaluation - late on Tuesday morning - with flying colors and was feeling much, much better with myself as I was driving through the busy city streets over to Sandra's place after stopping in my own apartment for a quick wash and a change of clothes. 

This could really work. Dr. Pappas knows what he's doing; if he says he's confident about Sandra's safety with me, then so am I. 

Trust and hope. 

* 

* 

* 

Taking the stairs up to Sandra's apartment I am nervous again. Showered, scrubbed and cleanly shaved - colloquially known as the 4 S's - I stand on her doorstep gathering the courage to ring the bell. Why I should be nervous I'm not quite sure. The last few days were a dream. We've been seeing each other every day and have truly enjoyed each other's company - not to mention the sex has been hot as hell. I'm sure she has a real connect with me as I know I certainly do with her, but the fear that something will go wrong - even 'normal' wrong, regardless of my special circumstances - still clamps my stomach. 

Stupid I know, but I feel like a teenager on a date again. She had to work last night so we haven't seen each other in over 24 hours and already I miss her. I know her afternoon should be free so I'm here to whisk her away for a few hours of romantic walks in the country and hopefully a repeat of the bedroom athletics, maybe outdoors this time... 

Keeping it vanilla doesn't mean we can't spice it up in other fun ways! 

The sound of the bell makes me start even though it is me that has pushed the button. 

Get a grip Dan. 

Sandra's silhouette appears in the frosted glass of the door and something instantly niggles at me; when she opens it I see why. 

She is dressed in her Nurse's uniform. That lovely white dress that reaches just above her knees. 

Oh Fuck. She's going to work! Why didn't I ring and check first? 

"Oh hi Dan, you look good! Come on in!" she reaches up on her toes, puts her arms around my neck, leans forward and opens her soft lips against mine giving me a slow, warm, welcoming kiss. 

"Hi Sandra" I eventually manage to say when she pulls back for breath. "Glad to see you, too." 

If she'd been leaning at the right angle she would have noticed exactly how pleased I was to see her, but fortunately she was slightly sideways so my right hip got the pleasure of her thighs, and I was spared the discomfort of appearing quite so eager. 

I'm not some horny kid, dammit. Well, not a kid, at least. 

"Mmm... You smell lovely, all spruced and after-shaved just for me. A girl can't help but be impressed." She takes my hand and leads me into her kitchen. 

We stand by the sink, side by side but not touching, and to be honest it feels a bit awkward for some reason. Neither of us speaks, just looking into each other's eyes - I wish I could read her mind right now - my fingers gripping the smooth, cold ceramic by my hips, and eventually I break the silence with the first thought that comes to mind. 

"So your sink stopped leaking?" 

There's a moment's silence before she breaks out in peals of laughter. "And who said romance was dead. I'm gonna buy you 101 ways to woo your woman for Christmas!" 

I nod, smiling at the thought of her buying me anything for Christmas, a few good months away from today - "that could come in handy, thank you!" - and with that the tension seems to disappear so I decide to confess about my plans for the afternoon. 

"Er, I was hoping we could go out for a picnic or something. I've actually prepared some food and there's a nice bottle of wine in the cool box down in my car, but it looks like you'd be working instead. What happened?" 

"Yeah... I'm sorry about that. I should've called and let you know but I was just checking back on my paperwork for the week and realized that I had a discharged patient under my care who hadn't had his final medical. It needs to be done and dated today or I will be in breach of regulations. I'm sorry baby, but it can't wait. It must be done pronto. But it should only take about an hour or so." 

I keep my disappointment in check and glue a smile to my face. "No problem baby, work must come first. It's only midday so perhaps we can go out when you're finished?" I think she sees past my brave face as I can't quite keep the hopeful ring out of my voice, but truth is I don't really mind her knowing how much I want to spend time with her. 

She leans into me, plants her soft breasts against my chest, looks me in the eye and whispers: "A picnic later sounds fantastic, and thank you for being so understanding. For now go upstairs, get undressed and lay face up on the bed. I will be with you shortly." 

I blink, unsure I heard her correctly, and then look at her in shock. "But your appointment?" 

"Just go and do as I tell you." 

The look in her eyes and her tone of voice tell me I shouldn't argue - not if I know what's good for me - so with a curious glance in her direction I cross the kitchen and walk to her bedroom, feeling my heartbeat picking up to a quick gallop. 

What the hell is going on here? Has she got time for a quickie? Is she going to leave me waiting? 

I slowly undress and do as I'd been instructed. As I lie there my brain is working ten to the dozen, but with the ticking of time my mind drifts off as I enjoy the smooth, cool sheets under my back and the faint scent of Sandra that wraps around me, teasing me, hinting of possibilities to come. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 05



After about ten minutes I hear sounds in the hallway and then the door opens to admit Sandra, still dressed in her nurse's uniform, but with some noticeable adjustments that make my heart kick-start again. 

The top of her dress is now open to the button just under her bust, the deep, wide V revealing a creamy swell of feminine flesh along with the top of her pink bra. Her little hat is now askew and tendrils of blond hair escape from the sides, caressing her blushing cheeks. Her skirt had been somehow folded into itself to about two inches below her interesting bits, and makes what I would call a 'pussy pelmet'. She's also carrying her nurse's bag. 

And her lips... Oh my dear God in heaven. Her luscious lips are colored a bright, shimmering firehouse red, as slutty and obvious as they come. 

Damn but this shit works. I feel my earlier ardor return with a vengeance. 

My instant impression is that she looks like a woman on the prowl for a victim. I just gawp at her, mouth open waiting to catch any passing flies. 

"Yes Mr. Moreno, it is your final medical that needs doing today, and as you are being such a good patient by not getting upset with the delay to your picnic I have decided to take this opportunity and give you a complete head to toe checkup. I shall require you to cooperate fully and hopefully this won't take too long. Do you have any questions?" 

The sultry tone and look of desire on her face, combined with the obvious outfit and the total unexpectedness of her words and actions, rob me of any coherent thought and I just shake my head in answer to her question. 

"That's good Mr. Moreno, and as you seem to be having a problem closing your mouth I shall begin there." 

With those words she kneels on the bed next to my head, her shapely bare leg so close I can feel the heat of her skin warming my ear. She opens her bag and takes out a wooden tongue depressor from its sterile wrap. 

"Say ahhhh." she asks as she gently inserts it into my mouth. 

"Aghrrhhrerrer" is the sound that I manage to produce, but that seems to satisfy her. 

"Tonsils good and the tongue a nice healthy color. Any pain from your jaw and lips?" 

"Ot erry uch ut schtil hurths to o'en I outh." 

She giggles, and the sound tickles down my spine all the way to my balls. 

"Sorry! I guess it would help if I removed the depressor. Now try." 

"Ahm - not very much but it still hurts to open my mouth very wide." 

She nods sympathetically. "It will do for a while yet as your jaw heals, but I can see you aren't in any real discomfort. Let's have a look at your head." 

Her fingers gently feel their way through my close-cropped hair, prodding around for about a minute before declaring that wound healing nicely as well. 

Meantime my arousal is mounting by the second. Her scent is driving me crazy, her thigh gently rubbing against my shoulder and her succulent, half exposed breasts swaying inches from my eyes, it's all too much. I raise my hand and start to caress the top of her bare thigh, just below her panties. Sandra immediately leaps to her feet and stands at the side of the bed, glaring at me with her best outraged nurse's expression, though the twinkle in her eyes rather undoes the seriousness of her look. 

"MR. Moreno! What do you think you're doing?! I require you to behave yourself while I give you this thorough and professional examination. If you continue in this manner I shall be forced to report you to the authorities. Now, will you behave or do I need to restrain you?" 

Restrain me! FUCK NO. My eyes widen at the suggestion, and I decide to play along - even if it's only to be on the safe side. 

"I will behave Nurse. I promise." 

"Hmpphh, we shall see. Now, I need to check your upper body. Behave!" 

She opens her nurse's case again, gives it a quick rummage and produces a stethoscope. It's the real McCoy and knowing nurses don't get issued them I surmise she had either bought it or half inched it from a doctor especially for our little medical. 

She's full of surprises, isn't she? 

The sight of it hanging round her neck with the tail end dangling between her breasts is enough to raise my blood pressure another couple of notches. Fuck knows what it will be when she finally gets to testing it. Leaning forward she puts the earpieces in, huffs onto the business end and then rubs it in her palm a few times, and finally places the warmed metal onto my chest. 

"There now, wasn't that nice of me to warm it up just for you, sir?" 

Her sweet lustful smile tells me she's fully enjoying the game being played. I feel myself respond to it - and to the way she uses 'sir' in this sassy tone of voice. Even more adrenaline pumps into my veins. 

Bring it on, babygirl. 

"Big breaths please and then slowly release them." 

For the next couple of minutes she carefully listens to my breathing, a frown of concentration etched on her face. The only thing betraying her calm, professional façade is that every now and again she happens to 'accidentally' brush my bare, tight nipples as she moves the base. It's exquisite torture, and I can do nothing about it. Not without stepping out of my role, which I find myself rather enjoying - against any of my preconceived ideas. 

So this was what it's like to be under the power of a mistress, give her total control over me. And the real shocker is that I am as turned on as I'd ever been. FUCK. I don't even know how I should feel about that. 

"Okay Mr. Moreno, while I have you in this position I think it's time to check your blood pressure. Give me your arm please." 

I obey wordlessly and she wraps the cuff around my bicep and starts pumping. Again she's being very professional except while leaning over me to adjust the cuff she gently rubs her breasts along my ribs, her nipples poking hard through the cotton of her uniform. My breath catches and my dick twitches and swells further, now more than half-hard. 

Sandra looks down my body before meeting my eye and says lightly: "Relax Mr. Moreno and ignore what I am doing. We wouldn't want to raise your blood pressure at this stage now, would we?" 

RELAX! Fat chance. Ha! 

"Hmmm, BP is a little high sir, so I think we should try and lower it a bit before taking another reading. Roll over onto your stomach please." 

I do so with a low moan of half-relief, half-frustration as the weight of my pelvis settles over my engorged member making it sink into the mattress below. I hold myself in tight check not to dry-hump the bed. 

There's a limit to how low I'll get. Humping her bed is most definitely out of the question. 

Sandra moves over to straddle my hips and I do my best not to think about her pretty pussy pressing against my butt through her hot pink panties. Try not to think about pink elephants. Go ahead, try. But then her warm hands come in contact with my shoulders and every thought evaporates from my mind altogether. 

The next twenty minutes are spent in my receiving the most relaxing and sensuous massage of my life. Sandra's hands glide across my skin and gently rub away the knots in my muscles. I'm in heaven. 

"There now, isn't that better Mr. Moreno?" Her sweet voice lilts melodically in my ear, and another quick check of the blood pressure apparently confirms things are normal again. 

"Now, while you are in this position it's time to check another vital function, one that is important in middle aged males, and if a problem is found early enough it can be easily cured." 

This statement is followed by the sound of her little bag of tricks opening again and something being removed. 

My relaxed brain had perked up by this stage though it hasn't grasped her exact meaning, but it fires into life as recognition hits me like a sledgehammer with one simple sound: 

SNAP! goes the rubber glove around her wrist, and instant memories of me conducting cavity searches on detainees surge through my brain. 

"WHAT THE FU...!" 

I roar up and am about to flip over when Sandra's soft weight presses all along my back and her hot breath tickles as she speaks close to my ear. 

"Shhh... relax Mr. Moreno. I promise you will enjoy this. The prostate is the center of your body's pleasure zone." 

Her breasts press into my shoulder blades as she kisses me lightly on the back of the neck, tiny butterfly kisses that send shivers of pleasure up to my scalp and almost make me forget about her declared, devious intent. 

Almost. 

All my muscles tense as my mind struggles with itself. It's not like I've never had my rear end checked before - being in the service did actually entail full medicals every couple of years - but letting her do it - in a sexual context - is a completely different beast. I'd never had a lover penetrate me in any way, shape or form; never felt even remotely inclined to experience it. 

And yet the thought of denying Sandra, of disappointing her by not playing along, stops me from turning around and putting a swift end to it. 

Besides, I might even enjoy it. 

Yeah. That's exactly what I'm afraid of. 

As if reading my mind Sandra licks and nibbles on the spot where my neck and shoulder meet and then goes back to speaking quietly in my ear: "Trust me baby... trust and relax. I'm going to make you feel so, so good..." 

I gulp a lump down my dry throat, give her a curt, almost imperceptible nod, and try to regulate my quickened breath. I don't protest any further. In some distant corner of my mind I figure this is probably a good way to build her trust in me... and if I'm being completely honest with myself I'd also have to admit I'm now curious as to what she has planned. I sink into the covers and at her gentle push open my legs to give her access. 

My cheeks are slowly pried apart and cold lube drizzles onto my ring. A gloved, slim finger touches my tight star and is immediately - if gently - inserted, gliding in easily with all that lube, and then is carefully turned so that it's facing towards my front. 

So far so good. 

A moment later I cry out in surprised pleasure when the most incredible feeling shoots through my cock, created by her finger gently massaging the walnut-sized gland at the base of my balls. 

"Aaarrrggghhh FUCK that feels good...!" 

I'm not sure if I blurted it out loud or not until I hear Sandra's delighted chuckle as she leans over to speak into my ear again. 

"Told ya you're gonna like it baby... now be quiet and enjoy the ride..." 

Now I am really in utter heaven, and after a couple of minutes I can no longer avoid humping my hips against the duvet, whether or not I mean to. The gentle laugh from behind me only increases the tempo of my bucking hips. 

"Oooooh yesss... I think you really, really like it. Maybe a bit too much, hmm?" and in the next moment her clever finger withdraws, leaving me silently begging for more of her gentle, knowing touch. I grind my teeth hard to keep that thought to myself. 

I'd be damned if I begged a woman to finger my ass. I don't care how good it feels, there's a hard limit right there! 

"Time to continue the examination I think." she says it after a little pause, which I suspect was meant to give me the opportunity to speak up. 

Dammit. Just hurry up and finish already before I make a total mess of your sheets, lady. 

I hear the glove being removed and discarded in the bin followed by the rustling of clothes being shed, raising my hopes way up before I suddenly receive a sharp, surprising slap on my right buttock. 

What the HELL?! She's going to spank me now? NO WAY. 

But before my jumbled mind can decide how to best broadcast that message across I feel her soft palm rub gently at the tingling spot, her fingertips just barely grazing my aching balls from behind causing the tingle to spread and intensify all through my groin. 

"Please turn over, sir, and keep your hands by your sides." 

She sounds polite and professional again - respectful, almost - and I respond without conscious thought. I turn, my cock springing up to a straight-backed salute to the beautiful, gloriously topless nurse standing next to me. Her firm and ample breasts are flushed along the top and both nipples are tightly erect, almost like miniature dried grapes. Hard, wrinkled, and by the looks of it - throbbing. 

"Having done the prostate exam it is now time to check your ejaculatory function. As you can see, I have decided to help your arousal by giving you some visual stimulation. Is that agreeable to you, sir?" 

I nod dumbly though I can see she doesn't wait for my reply but already climbs onto the bed and kneels down between my legs, leans forward with swaying breasts, and gently takes the helmet of my cock into her mouth, starting to lick and suck with the lightest of touches. 

"OH DEAR GOD, OH FUCK." 

My hips jerk irregularly with every swipe of her soft, wet tongue, and after no more than 30 seconds of this incredible sensation I blow...and I blow ...and I blow. It seems as if I am cumming for a whole fucking minute, and the whole time Sandra just gently suckles and swallows, using absolutely the minimum of pressure on my bell end. 

FUCK! 

The whole blow job from start to finish lasted maybe a minute, and not once had Sandra taken more than the head of my dick into her mouth. She barely even touched me! But even with that thought it is all I can do to just lie there in a cloud of orgasmic bliss, totally drained, my fingers and toes still tingling from the effect. 

"Well, Mr. Moreno, it seems your ability to cum hasn't suffered with your injuries. I would say that you are in full and fine working order." 

She sounds satisfied. Smug. I feel the urge to reclaim the upper hand, to dominate her and take control rise inside of me, and silently I push it back down in my mind. She topped you and she did a fine damned job of it. Handle it. It's not like you didn't like it. 

My voice still sounds funny when I try to reply with some measure of coherency. "Bit damned quick though... I'm sorry, baby. I haven't come that fast since I was a teenager wanking to the latest edition of Penthouse." 

A soft chuckle sounds in my ear as she slowly slithers her way up my spent body and nestles into my good side. 

"Oh, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did after the prostate massage. I was trying to judge it so that I stopped just short of you cumming. Looks like I got that bit right!" I can hear the smile in her voice. 

Lifting my arms from the duvet for the first time since she told me to keep them there, I wrap them around her and pull her in close. 

"So... It looks as if not only do I have a lovely little subbie to play with, but a kinky little wannabe Domme as well. Did you enjoy that, my pretty pervy nurse?" 

I feel her grin widen on my chest. "I did - more than I expected to, to be honest - but it isn't something I'd want to do all the time. I definitely like being dominated by a strong man, but I figured the occasional change wouldn't hurt any." She turns her eyes up at me, and for the first time since she walked into the room I can see some insecurity in them. "Right?" 

I grin and hug her close, kissing her upturned lips lightly. "Hmm. I would reluctantly admit to having enjoyed your little game... but I'd caution you from getting too used to it. There were a couple of moments there where I was seriously tempted to show you who's the real boss." 

She sticks her chin out, one delicate eyebrow arching up in challenge. "So why didn't you?" 

When I answer her all playfulness is gone; this is too important to joke about. "Because we hadn't talked about limits yet. I was serious about that being mandatory before I would ever Dom you, baby." 

Sandra nods and bites her lip before speaking again. "I can't wait." 

I smile, kissing her lips lightly, reassuringly. "Yes you can baby. And you will." 

Sandra says nothing but hugs me close in response, and I think I feel her nodding into my chest before she pulls back and props herself on her elbow. 

"So, my lovely hunky fixer of sinks, did you mention something about a picnic? I'm starving after all that exertion." 

I smile up at her. "I certainly did. Wanna go for a walk somewhere remote, or do I bring it up here?" 

"Hmm..." She seems to consider her options as her free hand travels down the side of her body, massaging her breast before dipping lower over her belly and straight into her pink panties, where she starts rubbing small circles at the top of her slit. 

"Why don't you bring it up here... and while you do that I'll work on preparing my own very special dessert just for you... Maybe you could even convince me to have your treat before dinner..." 

I groan deep in my chest and roll myself to stand up beside the bed, watching Sandra prop herself back against a couple of fluffy pillows, spread her legs wide, pull her panties to one side with her left hand and wet the fingers of her right hand in her mouth before going back to masturbating right in front of my very appreciative eyes. 

"God but you're pushing it baby... keep that up and I may decide to tease and then deny you just to remind you how it's going to be very, very soon." 

I watch her eye widen and turn a smoldering grey-blue and her breath catch in her throat. 

Gotcha, babygirl. 

"Now you keep playing with this pretty pussy of yours so that it's hot and creamy for me when I'm back with our food, but I don't want you cumming just yet... all right?" 

Her fingers quicken their pace across her clit and then slow down to slide up and down her slit, making me almost forget all about the darned picnic basket. She gasps softly when her fingertips hit that sweet spot halfway between her clit and her tight hole and her eyes roll back and close for a moment before opening to lock with mine again. 

"Yes sir, I think I can do that, but please be quick." 

I smile and keep watching as I get into my boxers and jeans, sitting down on the bed to put on my shoes not bothering with socks, and then grabbing my T-shirt and moving towards the door. 

"Oh don't worry baby, there's nothing that would keep me away knowing what's waiting for me up here. I'll be back in five minutes; think you can hold off till then?" 

With another breathy sigh and a sweet arch of her back she picks up her pace again and murmurs: 

"Y-yes, sir." 

"Good girl." 

I leave the room, only recognizing my own words halfway down the stairs. 

FUCK. Friday couldn't come fast enough. 

* 

* 

* 

Author's note: Did you like this chapter? Tell me, please! VOTE, FAVORITE and COMMENT. Thanks!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 06



Author's note: 

First and foremost, thank you to my co-creator and editor, the Brit :)

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub and ended up at the hospital where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew over the weeks following his release, until finally they became lovers. Sandra wants Dan to dom her, while Dan struggles as he fears it would put Sandra at risk.

In this chapter: Setting up safeguards and talking limits. Not much sex per se... but hope you enjoy it all the same :)

~~~~~~~

Wednesday and Thursday fly by fast. Sandra has both work and school on these days so we meet late in the evening at her place. I make sure to bring dinner with me every night, which earns me a teasing comment about my being hell-bent on feeding her, and whether I thought she wasn't curvy enough as it was.

"Baby, it's true that I absolutely love your curves, but that's not why I got you dinner. It's just that you had another full shift this morning and then 4 more hours at the college. I don't want you slaving away at the kitchen on top of all that." 

Sandra shrugs. "I've been taking care of myself forever, Dan. It's no big deal."

I frown as I reach out to tuck a wisp of blond hair behind her ear and she tilts her head into my touch, rubbing her cheek against my palm like a kitten begging for attention and making me suck in a quick breath. So responsive. 

"I like taking care of you, babygirl."

Her mouth softens.

"Okay." 

Fuck. She submits so beautifully.

*

As we set up the dinner table together there's an unspoken tension between us that we both try to ignore, though it's source is clear: tomorrow is Friday. We're going to have our 'limits' talk, and if all goes well we will play for the first time.

Every time I think about it I feel my stomach drop and my dick twitch and swell. Planning the session in my mind is exhilarating, and knowing Sandra is a complete newbie only adds to the heady mix of expectation and nerves. I'm going to take things very slow, for both our sakes. Though I have faith in the chemistry between us - this last week's been mind-blowing - I am not going to risk anything by pushing either one of us harder than we can handle at this point.

"You okay baby?"

Sandra's melodic voice brings me back to the here and now and I re-focus my gaze on her upturned face, noting the little frown on her forehead.

I smile apologetically and bend to place a reassuring kiss on her lips. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Let's eat."

*

An hour later we are snuggled together on her couch, the table cleared and the dishes done. I washed, she dried and put them back in place, and I've got to admit the domesticity of it all is comforting. It's been years since I've shared these everyday tasks with anyone. Doing them alone was kind of depressing; working side-by-side Sandra is damn near enjoyable. I snort at the thought in my head. 

Jon would have a field day with that one. He would tease the hell out of me for getting so thoroughly domesticated, even though in truth he'd know exactly how I feel. 

I need to call him, but I find myself dragging my feet about it. If I'm honest with myself it is because I don't think he'd approve of me taking things anywhere further with Sandra, let alone actually playing any D/s games with her. He's going to chew my head off.But damn it, he's not my babysitter and I know I'm being careful about this. I'm going to see Dr. Pappas again on Friday morning - tomorrow - and get the all-clear from him. I'm making sure there are safeguards in place, putting my limits way in the green zone to prevent anything from getting out of hand. 

Yeah. Fat chance getting Jon to see it from my point of view.

"Is it about tomorrow, baby?" Sandra looks searchingly at my frowning face.

"Huh? No, baby, I was just thinking... It's been a while since I saw Jon; I want to catch up with him. I think I'll try to meet up on Sunday. I wish I could go shoot some hoops with all the guys but I'm afraid I'm a few weeks from being quite recovered enough."

"Mmm. That sounds like fun... could I come too when you go?" She asks with a mischievous smile lighting her face.

"Er, sure I don't see why not - are you any good?" I'm sure my surprise can be taken the wrong way but I can't seem to help it; I don't know many women who can actually play basketball well.

Sandra shrugs. "Not really. But I like to play, and it sounds way more fun than going to the gym which I try to do on Sundays."

I smile. Having Sandra in a sweaty tank top and shorts running around is not a half-bad idea. "Yeah, well, you're welcome to join whenever - you tell me when I get the all-clear, right?

She nods, and then chews on her lip as if wanting to say something else. I wait, and finally she speaks up. "Well, speaking of plans for the weekend..."

"Yes...?" I raise an eyebrow at her obvious nervousness. What's that all about?

"Well, remember I told you about my family Saturday brunches? I was wondering if you'd like to join this weekend...?" Her eyes are almost pleading, and I tilt my head, considering her.

"Hmmm. An invitation to meet the family... I'm flattered, baby. Seriously. But - remind me how traditional is your family? Is your dad going to meet me at the doorstep with a shotgun?"

I'm only half-joking. Touched as I am by the invitation I know my own father had expected to hear wedding bells when I brought a girl over to a family meal - which happened only once, with Naomi, and indeed was followed by announcing our engagement. As happy as I am about having Sandra in my life, that may just be a tad too soon for us.

Sandra shrugs concomitantly. "Nah. We're not very traditional at all. And I'd really love for you to come. It'd be fun!" 

I try to come up with reasons not to accept but none come to mind. Heck, if it's so important to Sandra I'll do it. How bad can it be?

"Sure baby, I'd love to join you and your family for brunch on Saturday."

"Thank you." 

She smiles brightly and rises up to kiss me sweetly on my lips. The soft pressure and damp sweep of her lips against mine seem to light up a whole Christmas tree inside my head, and just like that I want her again with an urgency that should astound me, but I find myself embracing it instead. My hands come up to hold her face as I deepen the kiss, my tongue gliding along the seam of her lips and delving in as soon as they open for me with a quiet gasp.

I groan into her mouth and shift around to lie back on the sofa bringing Sandra down with me so that she's pressed against my body, one of her legs between mine, her back against the cushions so she doesn't have a lot of wiggle room.

I take advantage of her limited mobility, keeping her body close as we kiss and touch and fondle, making out on her couch. In truth I'm not sure if it's a good idea for us to even have sex tonight, a day before we have 'the talk'. But soon all thought of 'should' and 'shouldn't' evaporates and all there is is the feeling of her warm, soft skin under my fingers, the taste of her pliant lips on my tongue, and the sound of her quickened breaths echoing my own as we both struggle to get out of our clothes as fast as humanly possible.

When we're both naked she sprawls again on top of me, entwining our legs, and rocks her pelvis to and fro causing my erection to roll and press between our bellies. Her glorious breasts press heavily onto me and her eyes turn dark as she drags her hard nipples along the hairs on my chest, teasing herself. Her lips seek the underside of my jaw, licking and kissing and nibbling until she gets to my lips and gives me an honest, needy, open-mouthed kiss, at the same time moving a couple of inches upwards so that her clitoris rubs directly along the length of my cock with every motion.

I hear the air catch in the back of her throat as she repeats the movement again, and again, and again, and soon enough there is no avoiding what's going on - she's using my body to masturbate, inching ever closer to climax. I take her face between my hands, meeting her heavy-lidded eyes.

"Having you riding me like this feels freakin' awesome, baby... you got any condoms hidden in the cushions by any chance?"

Her face registers a momentary confusion before breaking into a surprised laugh. "No but that's an oversight I promise to fix as soon as possible!"

My lips curve upwards. "Well in that case, may I escort you to the bedroom, m'lady? Because unless I don a condom soon I'm in danger of making a mess of your couch..."

With a reluctant whimper and a breathy laugh Sandra climbs off of me and then gives me her hand to help me up as well, and leads me after her into her bedroom.

*

* 

*

"So, Dan, today's the big day, right?"

Dr. Pappas sits across from me, leaning forward in his chair with his arms on his knees, his sleeves folded back and his eyes trained on mine, ready to get right to work. I feel myself respond in kind.

"Yes sir. It is." The mix of excited nervousness in my stomach intensifies. Saying it out loud makes it even more real.

"And how are you feeling about it?" As usual his tone is interested, but not too eager, and I appreciate his steadfast professionalism.

"Scared. Horny." 

This gets a loud chuckle from him. "I bet!" And then he adds in a kinder voice: "So, what are you afraid of, exactly? Let's lay it out in the open. One of the best fear management techniques out there is naming it, detailing it. Making it very concrete rather than leaving it vague and undefined."

I swallow and nod. "Yeah. Well, I guess I'm afraid of the obvious - that I'd somehow lose control and really hurt Sandra like I did Naomi. And then I'm also nervous of the complete opposite happening as well - I'm worried that I'd get a panic attack and... I dunno. Fold into a fetal position and hyperventilate on the floor or something. 

"Hmm. Okay, let's talk about both scenarios then. We'll start with the first one - the risk of your hurting Sandra - as that's obviously the bigger issue. We've been through some of it before but I think it's good to spend some more time on this." I nod my agreement.

"So, what do you think triggered your attack on Naomi?"

"Well... I think..." I pause, letting my thoughts roam freely for a while before herding them in and harnessing them into words. 

"When her text came in, telling me that it was over and that she'd moved on and never wanted back, it felt like the last brick collapsing onto the ruins of my life. That fantasy I had of getting Naomi back to me and reclaiming control of my life just... shattered. And I... flipped. I couldn't simply let her go; I somehow thought I'd make her want me again." 

Pathetic loser. 

The thought has not been as frequent in my mind as it was in those first couple of weeks but it's still been lurking just below the surface, rearing its ugly head at the first opportunity. Dr. Pappas notices my expression and gently steers the conversation - and my mind - back to constructive paths.

"Right. So basically it was a huge sense of fear - fear for your life, really - which while irrational made you act as if that perceived threat was real."

"Yeah, but that's no excuse --" 

"This isn't about making excuses for your past actions, Dan." Dr. Pappas cuts my protest short, though his voice is as soft and calm as ever. "It's about exposing the mechanism behind your behavior in order to hopefully, well, 'fix' it. Make it more shock resistant, if you will."

I gulp and nod jerkily. "Okay."

"Now, you're clearly very happy to have Sandra in your life right now."

It doesn't sound like a question but I answer anyways. "Yes. Very. More than happy - grateful. I don't know where I'd be today if it weren't for her."

"How so?" Dr. Pappas' eyebrows lift and the lines in his brow deepen as he studies me.

"Well, I guess she gives me... I dunno. Focus. Something good to look forward to every day."

"Hmm. I see. So what would happen if you didn't have her in your life?"

I grimace. "Argh. I really don't know if I'd be here if it weren't for her."

"Why?"

I rub the back of my neck trying to ease the uncomfortable itch there. "I mean I'd probably hole up in my apartment, too ashamed to let myself out, meet people... too guilty to re-start my life."

"Is that so?"

My head snaps back at the challenge in Dr. Pappas's words but the automatic protest dies on my lips when I meet his steady gaze. The shrink nods his approval at my pause.

"Think back to our conversation at the hospital before your release. You weren't involved with Sandra then, were you?" I shake my head and he continues. "I recall you having already found something to provide you not only focus and structure, but also a renewed sense of self-worth."

Ah.

"I - yeah, I guess you're right. You're talking about my new business, right?"

Dr. Pappas nods. "You were quite excited about it, if I recall correctly. And I know you've kept at it over the past few weeks, though we haven't discussed your work as much over the last few days. Have you given up on starting the business?"

"No, of course not. I've been keeping at it - have actually started to do some volunteer work as part of my plan - doing some good while at the same time learning how to quantify my work on different projects and getting a bit of a name going for my services. I'm also scheduled to meet with a friend to set up a website and get some basic online marketing campaigns going - not that I understand any of it but I hope that would change soon."

Dr. Pappas smiles. "Right. So - still think you'd be holed up in your apartment too ashamed to see people if you didn't have Sandra?"

I bow my head, reluctantly recognizing his point. "Yeah, I see what you're saying."

"Do you? Let me be clear on that, Dan, because this is crucial to your prognosis: your life does not depend on Sandra. Can you see that? She's important to you, sure, and I can imagine it would really hurt if she were no longer in it. But there's more to your life than her. You do not depend on her to find your happiness or your self-worth. Do you see that?"

I gulp and nod. "Yeah. Yes I do."

Dr. Pappas tilts his head and studies my face shrewdly. "You sound disappointed. Are you?"

I shrug. "Not disappointed exactly. Just... it feels like such a cynical view of the world, doesn't it?"

"Why? Because Hollywood taught you that your feelings cannot be true if that other person isn't your whole world?"

Ouch. That hurt. I grimace. "Not Hollywood so much as my mother, bless her memory."

Dr. Pappas chuckles. "Well I'd give you cookie points for listening to your mother; they do usually know best. But in this particular point I beg to differ. I think it's important to be realistic about the roles people play in each other's lives. As romantic as being someone's 'whole world' may sound, it can get very suffocating after a while. Even dangerous, in some cases."

My stomach churns listening to his words. I speak my thoughts out slowly, haltingly, almost afraid to complete them out loud.

"I - I used to be that... for my wife. Naomi - she always said I was the center of her world. It- it wasn't suffocating at all. It was... exciting. Rewarding. I loved it." I raise my troubled eyes to meet the shrink's calm, focused gaze.

"Until...?" He prods, though his somewhat jaded, knowing look is gentled by the hint of compassion in his voice.

I gulp. "Until I - I couldn't be that anymore. I couldn't give her what we both wanted. I couldn't change the fact that she was barren. And I couldn't..." I stop as I feel my throat contract painfully and swallow hard over the lump in its back. "And I couldn't stand up to my father on the issue."

"And how did that make you feel, when you could no longer be 'the center of her world'?"

I bow my head, feeling the grim grooves burrow deeper down my cheeks. "Like a complete and utter failure. Like I was less than a man. Like a pathetic loser."

"Hmm. I see."

Dr. Pappas falls quiet and considers me patiently as I shake my head helplessly, staring unseeingly at the floor, my thoughts whipping and whirling inside my head so fast I'm almost dizzy. Finally I straighten up and look back into his patient eyes.

"So you're saying these are two sides of the same coin, essentially."

Dr. Pappas nods. "Yes, that is what I'm suggesting. Does it make sense to you?"

"I - I guess so. I mean, I can see how my being my wife's 'center' was a huge part of my identity, which meant that when I failed at that it pretty much shattered me."

"Right. And it would be similarly unrealistic, unfair, and potentially risky for you to put Sandra on a pedestal now. I'd say the most effective safeguard you can offer Sandra is making sure your life, your self-worth, is NOT dependent on her. Focus on establishing your new business, build a new name for yourself in the community. Create some safety nets around you so that if things don't work out between you two, your core - your self - remains intact. For both your sakes."

I nod gravely. "Yeah. I see what you're saying, doc."

The shrink smiles. "Good."

I'm still mulling his words over in my head as Dr. Pappas mumbles "excuse me for a sec" and gets to his feet to walk over to the corner of the room, where a small water bar stands. "You want a cup, Dan? I'm going to get one for myself."

Jerked away from my thoughts I look up, startled. "Umm, yeah, sure. Why not."

Dr. Pappas returns and hands me a paper cup, taking a sip of his before settling down again in his chair. I drain my own cup in a few hearty gulps, the cool, refreshing water soothing more than my dry throat. I sigh deeply as I put the empty cup down. 

"Okay, doc. I get the point. Being dependent on Sandra is risky. Duly noted."

Dr. Pappas grins briefly. "Good. So now let's consider the second concern you raised - your fear of getting a panic attack while playing. Could you tell me more about it?"

I clear my throat. "Ahm, yeah, well, you know about my panic attacks - I had one right here last week - and it seems they are triggered by things that remind me of - of what I did to Naomi." 

Even saying those words makes my whole body tense and my hands dampen with sweat. Fisting them with irritation I push through. "I'm afraid if I did anything even remotely reminiscent of that - it could come back in a second."

Dr. Pappas tilts his head, considering me. "Hmm. Could you give me an example of such a situation? Something that you feel could trigger the panic?"

I feel the tension rise in my body and try to relax my muscles and breathe slowly before answering, but the words still stumble out of my dry mouth.

"Yeah. Using a g-gag, for example." I feel my heart rate shoot up and the damned cold sweat break on my skin as the inevitable images swamp my head, and it takes my whole concentration to push them back and keep talking. "I - I used a makeshift gag to stop Naomi f-from screaming..." I gulp hard and start again. "I can't gag Sandra. I need to know she can always safeword. I need to know she can tell me to stop."

Dr. Pappas nods gravely. "All right. So clearly, no gags. Any other obvious triggers?"

I list the obvious few that top my list but in truth there may be more I am not even aware of. "Doc, of course I'm going to do everything I can to plan ahead to make sure nothing triggers me in the middle of a session. But what if something comes up that I didn't expect and it throws me into a full-blown panic?"

The older man is quiet for a few seconds, thinking. Finally he replies with a question of his own:

"Have you ever had a sub who panicked mid-session with you?"

The question throws me a bit. "I - yeah, once, many years ago. It was before I even met Naomi. A previous girlfriend, the first submissive I'd ever played with, actually."




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 06



"Hmm. And what did you do when it happened?"

It's strange, how well I remember that long-ago incident. "I stopped the scene, untied her, got her to calm down, and we talked about it. Figured what it was that caused it and made sure never to repeat it again."

Dr. Pappas nods. "Right. Good. Now, you said it happened once. Let me ask you this: How come, do you think, it never happened since? Not once, not with any other sub?"

I consider his question. "Well, I - I guess I got better at watching out for early signs of panic. I did stop some scenes over the years when I felt my sub was close to it." Reflecting on those situations I add - "and it turned out I was right to do so every time that I did, by the way."

"Well, there's your answer then, I think." He says mildly.

"Where? I'm not sure I follow."

His mouth twists in amusement. "Think again."

I do, and then venture an answer: "You mean I should watch out for my own early panic signs."

"Exactly." His sounds very pleased, but then sobers again as he continues.

"I understand you're used to being solely focused on your sub in session - her reactions, her body language, her emotional and physical well-being - which is obviously top priority. All I'm saying is you should practice keeping an eye on yourself, too. Be extra-conscious of your own early signs of panic. If you feel uneasy in your gut, your palms get sweaty, or you feel a bit of nausea - stop and check in with yourself, same as you would with your submissive. And if need be, adjust the session or even stop it altogether. No harm done."

I grimace. "Argh. You've got to admit it would be a mood killer if I stopped the session because I thought I was going to panic. Not very sexy."

Dr. Pappas holds my eyes in a level look. "It's leaps and bounds better than finding yourself curled in a fetal position, hyperventilating on the floor." He bluntly throws my own words back at me. 

Reluctantly I shrug and nod. "Yeah. It is."

The shrink smiles, a surprising glint in his eyes. "Besides, I bet you more often than not, you wouldn't really have to stop the session altogether. Just figure out the root cause of your unease and take it out of the equation. Adjust as you go along. Do it right and your sub won't even notice it; she'd probably assume you had a 'dramatic pause' planned right from the start."

I feel an answering grin stretch on my face, feeling unfamiliar but welcome. "Yeah. I might actually be able to pull that off."

"Good! So, any other concerns, or may I wish you good luck for tonight?"

I chuckle. "Only about a million but I think we covered the major stuff. Thank you doc, I appreciate it. Really."

He stands up and so do I and we shake hands before he claps my back reassuringly while walking me over to the door. 

"You'll be fine, Dan. That's my professional opinion. You'll be just fine. Enjoy yourself tonight, alright?"

I nod and swallow down the sudden lump in my throat. "Thanks Doc. I really hope so."

He chuckles. "I know so, Dan. I know so. Now go!"

*

*

*

After an early light dinner at her favorite near-campus cafe we walk back to Sandra's place, consciously keeping our conversation light and neutral until her door closes behind us.

The atmosphere changes abruptly once inside; the air between us thickening within a single heartbeat. Sandra pauses and turns to look at me, her face a lovely mix of apprehension and eagerness. Seeing her standing there, so naturally waiting for me to take the lead, makes every dominant instinct in me kick into high gear. I feel my muscles twitch with the urge to pounce. 

Instead, I smile. 

"Ready to talk limits, baby?"

Her breath seemed to catch before coming out in a little giggle. "Yes! Gosh yes. Please."

My smile widened at her enthusiasm. "Good. Go and make us that special iced lemonade of yours and bring it to the living room. I'll wait for you there."

With a quick nod she turns to the kitchen and my eyes follow her tempting backside until it disappears behind the doorway. It's the first time I've given her an instruction like that, and her easy, willing obedience goes straight to my dick.

God she's perfect. I better not fuck this up.

Shaking that thought from my head I walk over to the still-dark living room. Instead of switching on the main lights I opt for the small table lamp in the corner. It casts a soft, muted glow through a milky glass shade, enough for us to see each other's faces while keeping the atmosphere cozy and intimate. Good.

Two magazines lie haphazardly on the coffee table; I pick them up and stack them neatly on the side table next to the lamp, wanting the space around us to be free of visual distractions. Looking about the room I verify there's nothing else that would divert our attention, and satisfied with the setting I sit down at the far end of the sofa so that I can see Sandra as soon as she comes out of the kitchen.

I hear her move about preparing the iced drink and in another moment she appears in the doorframe, carrying a full glass pitcher in one hand and two tall glasses in the other. She pauses and smiles tentatively at me, and it takes me a second to catch up... but then I do, and the realization makes my dick twitch again. I nod my head once, and watch her release the breath she's been holding and start moving again towards me.

So perfect.

"Thank you baby. Come sit next to me." I say when she sets the pitcher and glasses on the table. While she settles on the sofa, tucking her now-bare feet under herself, I lean forward and pour us each a full glass and hand her one, raising mine at the same time.

"To us." I toast simply and she smiles and clinks her glass with mine.

"To us. Yamas!"

I grin back at her as we each take a long draw from the cold, tangy mix.

"You're right. Everything is better with ouzo."

She wiggles her eyebrows over glinting eyes. "You see? I told you so!."

Chuckling I bow my head. "Yes. Yes you did." Taking another small sip I put my glass down on the coffee table and turn to face Sandra full on, noticing with satisfaction her mimicking my movements.

It's time. 

I reach out, resting my palm face up on the sofa between us in invitation, and she accepts it with gratitude, placing her fingers on mine. Her hand, slightly damp and twitching with nervous excitement, looks dainty in my larger, steadier palm. Not that I'm immune to the expectant tension between us - far from it - but I embrace the adrenaline surge, riding the wave as surely as I ever had. 

I love this rush.

"All right babygirl, let's talk limits then. I trust you did your research?"

"I - I did, yes." She stammers a bit. "I even wrote it all down so that I don't forget anything. Here, sec." 

She lets go of my fingers to fumble in her denim skirt back pocket before producing a neatly-folded sheet of paper, unfolding and smoothing it over her thighs before clutching it too tightly with both hands in her lap.

From my vantage point I can see the pink-and-purple lines, broken into well-defined sections with titles and bullet points under them, all written in Sandra's clean, clear script. I swallow my chuckle, though I can still feel it curling the very edges of my lips.

"Good girl. I'm already so pleased with you. No matter what you have written in there it's clear you've given this a lot of thought. Thank you for that, baby."

Her cheeks color with a surprisingly shy smile. "Thanks. I really did - give it a lot of thought, that is I figured being a newbie wasn't an excuse for being ill-prepared seeing the amount of information available online."

I nod in reassurance. "True. And for the record - I don't do excuses. So that was definitely the right choice." I capture her gaze with a level look, and enjoy the slight widening of her eyes in response. 

"Th-thanks. I'll keep that in mind." I can see her pulse flutter at the base of her neck, beautifully framed by the modest V of her simple tank top, which molds lovingly to her curves. I tear my eyes from the slight hint of nipples pushing against the soft fabric to look back up into hers.

"Good. Now, shall we begin?" At her quick nod I continue. "All right, let's start with your hard limits then. What would you absolutely not want me to do, not even to try once?"

Sandra clears her throat and takes a quick look at her notes before meeting my eyes squarely.

"Well, first of all - no humiliation or degradation. I want to be treated with respect at all times, in and out of session."

"Okay. Want to give me some examples of what you would find degrading? Name calling, being made to crawl, sit at my feet, stuff like that?" I keep my voice calm and neutral, careful not to show any censure. While I don't have any special kink for degrading my partner, some of these things I may indeed find pleasurable - but I wouldn't want to do anything that's a turn-off for her.

"Well name-calling is absolutely off-limits. I'm not a slut, whore, bitch, cunt, skank... you get the idea. And I'm not a dog and don't want to be treated like one - be made to fetch or be lead by a leash would feel demeaning to me." 

I grin. "Okay. No puppy play and no degrading name calling, then. How about other names? What if I called you a minx, or a vixen?"

Her lips soften. "Well, I hadn't thought of those... I kinda like these names actually. I could certainly live with them. Though the truth is I really love it when you call me babygirl..."

"Ah, yes, you do like that, don't you, babygirl?" I smile widely at her enthusiastic nod. "I also remember back at the hospital you told me you were partial to being called a 'little girl', and also quite liked 'young lady', especially in the context of considering your behavior, no?"

Sandra nods again, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of crimson. "Yeah, all of those are good."

A thought occurs to me and after a brief internal debate I decide to voice it now rather than wait. Again I try my best to keep my tone from revealing my own preferences, wanting to get her true feelings on the subject. 

"So, does that mean you're into baby-girl/dom-daddy type role play?" 

She seems surprised by my question and then her brow furrows as she considers it. "I - I'm not sure about that. I mean it doesn't turn me off or anything - I wouldn't say it's a hard or even a soft limit for me - but it isn't something I'd ever fantasized about, either. I'm willing to try if you'd like me to?"

I sigh my relief. "No, no, that's quite all right. Truth is I asked because that might have been a problem for me - while I love calling you 'babygirl' I would not want you to call me 'Daddy'. In fact, that name would probably need to be on my hard limits list."

"Okay. I promise not to call you Daddy then." She mumbles softly, seemingly unsure if that's the right response. I nod, accepting her words. I don't want to go into the reasons for that specific title being a sore spot for me, as long as she remembers not to use it.

"Okay so we agreed on 'no puppy play', but how do you feel about slave positions, being made to kneel at my feet and crawl on all fours?"

"Well... any one of those things could be real hot, as long as I still feel appreciated." She says sounding a bit apprehensive, and I reach towards her again, caressing her cheek with my fingertips to reassure her as I consider her words.

"Hmm. I see. So, how would you have me make sure you feel appreciated?"

She shrugs a bit helplessly. "I dunno - the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice..." 

I feel frustration flare in my gut and swallow it down; instead I glide my fingers under her chin to lift her head and face me squarely. "Try harder baby. This is important; 'I dunno' isn't going to cut it. I need you to tell me what you need so that I can give it to you, all right?"

Sandra's head snaps back at my chiding, and then she takes a deep breath and straightens in resolve even as her cheeks heat. "You're right. I'm sorry. I would love to pose and kneel and crawl for you as long as you tell me to do it because you enjoy the view, or because it demonstrates my willing submission; not because you're trying to humiliate me."

I cup her cheek more fully in my palm and lean over to kiss her lips briefly. "I do value your submission for the incredible gift that it is, baby. I appreciate you even considering submitting to me." Another kiss, longer this time, deeper, and when I finally speak again my voice comes out thick and aroused. "And I am very, very sure I would enjoy looking at you in any one of these positions." 

Sandra breathes deep. "Thank you." I take one more taste from her lips and pull back before I get too distracted to finish our talk. 

"So, babygirl - what other hard limits do you have on your list?"

She leans back a bit, takes a moment to clear her head before answering. "Er, well, no faeces or urine, no sex with animals, nothing that would get me arrested."

I chuckle. "Check, check and check. What else?"

She answers without hesitance this time. "No electricity or knife play. Those scare the shit out of me. And no blood or needles, either."

"All right." I say that easily but I guess she could see my reaction before I could completely school my features.

"Does-does that surprise you? Are any of these things stuff that you'd like to do with me?" Her unease is palpable even as she tries to be brave about it. I reach back to take her hand in mine, rubbing my thumb lightly across her knuckles.

"Well, first, it doesn't matter if these were the top items on my wish list, baby. You just said these are hard limits for you, so we won't be doing any of them, period. Unless at some point you tell me you've changed your mind and want to try them."

"I - okay..." She still seems unsure and I sigh and decide to explain my reaction so that she doesn't get the wrong impression.

"Sandra, baby, I was surprised you said no blood or needles simply because you're a nurse. I don't have any particular affinity to them, mind you. Just found it a bit peculiar given your chosen career." 

I say it lightly, though she can hear the question in my tone and chooses to answer even though I hadn't quite asked.

"Yes, well, as a nurse I know how badly even a slight skin infection can deteriorate. I'd just prefer avoiding that risk." She shudders, clearly picturing the unpleasant possibilities in her mind.

"Ah. Gotcha." I am quick to agree. "Okay - so no electricity, knives, needles, blood or broken skin. What else?"

"Well..." Sandra hesitates for a second before continuing. "I don't mind marks being left on my skin, but I don't want anything permanent, and nothing that would be visible in my daily clothes."

I nod easily. "That's fair. Care to give me more specifics? Nothing on your face and neck, nothing on your hands and arms, nothing from the knees down... Anywhere else?"

Sandra worries her lower lip between her teeth before answering hesitantly: "Well, truth is I'd really like to still be able to wear my favorite swimsuit, but it is a bikini set. Not an ultra-skimpy one, but it's still a bikini...?"

Her hesitant answer-turned-request makes me smile wide. "You'll need to model that bikini for me soon!" 

Sandra returns my smile tentatively but still looks troubled. The truth is I have no intention of leaving any marks on her skin, nothing more than a bright pink color that would fade soon after a session ends, maybe the occasional love bite... Nothing close to the welts and bruises my attack left on Naomi. I stop the thought short and push it resolutely to the back of my mind before I get sucked into it.

"Baby, I wouldn't dream of stopping you from rocking your favorite bikini, so for the duration of the swimming season I'd make sure any marks, if at all, would be limited to your lovely behind and to your breasts, all right?"

Her smile is relieved. "Yes. Thank you." Then she seems to mull it over in her head again before adding - "and while we're on the subject I just thought of something else. Same as I don't want people seeing marks on my skin I also don't want them seeing me - well, exposed. Like, seeing my naked privates. Or wearing extremely revealing or trashy clothes. That would amount to humiliation for me... I hadn't thought of it before but I'd like to add that to my hard limits."

I nod. "Sure, baby. You got it."

Sandra breathes another sigh but then seems to jump up - "well, actually -" and stops abruptly.

"Yes...?"

She swallows hard before finishing her thought. "Well, I was just thinking - I don't think I'd mind being exposed in... in 'designated areas', like in a special club or a nudist beach. That could be exciting... just not anywhere that isn't... well, lifestyle-friendly, I guess."

I find myself holding back another delighted chuckle at the possibilities her words give rise to. 

"Okay baby. Thank you for clarifying. So - no public exposure unless in front of 100% guaranteed friendly audience, people who wouldn't think any less of you for exhibiting yourself in front of them. Anything else on your hard limits list?"

Sandra double checks and looks back to me with a smile. "Nope. I think we covered it all."

I lean towards her and place a congratulatory kiss on her lips.

"You're doing great, baby. I am very pleased with you, and I promise I will respect these limits at all times." 

"Thanks" she breathes, her eyes drooping to focus on my mouth, but I lean back and nudge her chin upwards so that she meets my eyes again.

"Okay then. Let's move on to your soft limits. Any areas you're willing to explore but need me to tread carefully as we do so? Things you may be a bit nervous about or aren't sure you're going to like, but are willing to try at least once?"

Sandra leans back and takes a deep, fortifying breath before consulting the pink-and-purple scribbles in her hand and then turning back to me.

"Well, breath-play kinda scares me but also seems super-hot, so I'd like to try at some point... also playing in public but without exposure and being careful not to get caught could be fun."

My eyes drop to her throat as she speaks, and I gulp hard. I'd never tried breath play before. I can imagine the rush I would get from controlling the very air Sandra could draw into her lungs, but at the same time it is downright scary. So much could go wrong. Horribly wrong. 

The vague unease in my gut intensifies until it cannot be ignored. Fuck. Panic alert. Back up Dan. It's certainly not something to jump right into with a newbie, anyways. Besides, you'd need to do a ton of research first, so it would be a while until it's even a valid option. Take it easy, man.

"Okay" I answer vaguely, and nod for her to continue. It seems she hadn't noticed my momentary pause. Phew.

"Um, I'm also willing to try anal although in the few times I'd tried it wasn't very pleasurable... It wasn't horrible either, so if that's something you'd really like to do I'd be willing to do it for you."

I can't keep from touching her now. My hand seems to be drawn of its own accord to her soft, warm neck. 

"Thank you for that, babygirl. I'm sure fucking your absolutely phenomenal ass is something I'd want to do at some point. I would however strive to make it fun for you, too. All right?"

She smiles. "All right." and then her face grows worried again as she adds - "also, and somewhat related, I'm not sure how much pain I can take, really. I mean, the idea of erotic pain absolutely excites me and I'd enjoyed the few times I got a proper spanking, but I have no idea how that compares to 'real' punishment, so..." 

Her voice trails off and now it's my turn to swallow my nerves as I reply.

"Well, baby, I'd love to tell you I'd help you explore your pain limits, but the truth is that's one of those areas in which my own hard limits may be stricter than yours."




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 06



She looks quizzically at me, but says nothing. I decide to elaborate anyways. She needs to know this.

"Sandra, baby... Listen. I do know how to deliver real pain safely. How to mix it with pleasure just right so that you ride that edge and one feeds the other. I've done it and enjoyed it very much for years. But after what happened with Naomi, I - I don't think I can do that anymore."

"Why?" She asks, and I can hear the deep need in her. I hate disappointing her. Fuck.

I cannot keep the strain from my own voice when I answer. "Because I find now that just the thought of you crying in pain under my hands -" like Naomi did I think, but keep that to myself - "it makes me sick. Literally. It turns my stomach. I can't do it baby. I'm sorry."

"O-okay." She mumbles in a subdued, quiet voice. It twists my guts.

"Baby, I am not saying I could never spank you. It's just that I wouldn't be going anywhere near your limits for pain, let alone trying to push them."

The crease on her brow smoothes as she gives me a tentative almost-smile and I sigh, relieved.

"Okay, so - what else is on your list baby?"

"Em..." She shakes her head as if to clear it and peeks at her notes again. "Well there are a couple of things on my wish list but I'm not sure now that you'd want to do them..."

"Tell me. Please."

"Well... The one thing I'd actually tried in the past and I absolutely loved is over-the knee, bare-bottom spanking..."

My features relax into an easy grin at her words. "Oh I'd love to put you over my knee, baby. While I don't want to cause any kind of real pain I'd be more than happy to deliver erotic spanking... I can't wait to add some hot pink to that lovely tush of yours!"

Her eyes all but light up at my words and her smile is the prettiest I'd ever seen. "Oh, thank God!" she laughs and blushes hard. "I'd only been spanked by hand or wooden spoon before but I'd love to try anything! Any toy or implement I'm game to try - though I don't own any..."

Her voice trails off and I laugh at her pouty expression. "I'm sure I can expand your horizons there, baby. I actually don't own any toys either, not at the moment -" I'd discarded all of them after my divorce "- but I'm sure we can remedy that quite easily, and in the meantime we can make do with stuff we have at home, using a bit of creative thinking. All right?" My mind already runs forward coming up with possibilities. Those lightly-padded Ping-Pong racquets I have in my gym bag could work...

Focus, Dan.

"Yes. That sounds... good. Really good. Thank you." The desire evident in her voice turns my thoughts back to her.

"Good. So, what else would you really, really want me to do with you, babygirl?"

"Well... Sensory deprivation like blindfold or ear buds sounds intense. I mean, in a good way. And I would love, love, love for you to tie me up and - and tease me or fuck me or spank me, or - or do whatever you want with me...!" 

Her building excitement is a view to behold. She squirms in her seat next to me, her flush deepens and spreads down her neck to the top of her chest peeking through the V of her T-shirt, her breath now coming out in quick puffs. I feel my cock harden in response, but at the same time her words twist my stomach into knots.

"Baby, as much as I admit to loving bondage, too, I can't - I can't tie you up. I need -" I stop to collect myself, breathe deeply and start again in a calmer tone. "I need to know that you can always stop me, Sandra. I need to know you can simply stand up and walk away. It's the only way for me to be sure you really want whatever it is that's happening... to know that I'm not - not -" 

Fuck. Say it, Dan. Man up and say it. 

"It's the only way for me to know I won't be forcing you against your will."

Shit. I can feel the bile rising in my throat. Back up Dan. You're fine. You're just talking. Sandra wants this; she's a willing partner. Breathe slow and deep. Again. Breathe.

I'm so deep inside my head I miss Sandra's movements until I feel her hand sneak to lace her fingers with mine, her other palm coming to rest on my chest, her thigh pressing against me on the cushion.

"Please, Dan. I know you'd never do that to me. I know."

Bowing and shaking my head I keep taking slow, measured breaths until I can feel the sickness subside. When I have my emotions under control I meet her clear blue eyes with my dark, troubled gaze. 

"No you don't, Sandra. You don't know that, and neither do I."

Sandra starts protesting again but my stern look stops her. She clamps her mouth, gulps, and keeps quiet. I reach to rub the firm line of her lips gently with my thumb, my voice softer when I continue.

"We can't be sure, which is why I need these safeguards in place, all right? It's the only way we could play together, baby. These are my terms. My limits. I told you they may be different from other Doms'... but I need you to respect them. Can you do that, baby?"

Her fingers squeeze mine, her other hand stroking my chest, trying to sooth the tight muscles there.

"I - I'm sorry, Dan. Yes. Of course I can do that. I just... I'm sorry."

I inhale sharply, deeply, and then release her hand to wrap my arm around her and squeeze her close, then drawing back and tilting her head up to kiss her briefly.

'Thank you baby. And just to clarify I would still very much enjoy restraining your movements, it's just that I won't be using any actual bindings." At her quizzical look I smile wickedly. "I'd simply tell you to hold your position and keep still while I - what was it on your wish list - 'tease you or fuck you or spank you, or do whatever I want with you', I believe you said? It's going to be so much fun making you struggle with yourself..."

Watching her sky-blue eyes turn stormy with her rising passion it is all I can do not to reach out and haul her over my lap at that very instant. I feel my cock swell and press uncomfortably against my fly, and I fist my hands to stop myself from adjusting it.

That's it, officer. Practice that self-control you used to pride yourself for. You're going to need it.

Sandra slides her hand across my chest and over my shoulder, her torso twisted so that her breasts press and rub against my side, her lips seeking and finding my throat, kissing and nibbling her way up to my jaw. The feel of her mouth on my skin causes shudders of need to run down my back. She turns even more fully towards me, throwing her leg over mine, almost straddling my thigh. Her movements push her denim skirt up all the way to her hips, and my muscles twitch and flex as the heat between her legs seeps through her skimpy panties and my jeans right into my skin. 

I cannot stop my hand from stroking up her naked thigh until it reaches the round curve of her ass, my fingers sinking into the supple skin, kneading her flesh for the span of a few quickened heartbeats before reluctantly moving up to her hip bone and gently but firmly pushing, separating our bodies and making her half-roll back to her spot next to me on the sofa.

"Soon, babygirl... we aren't finished talking." She whines in frustration and gives me a comical pout. I grin. 

"So, anything else on your wish list that you want to share with me?"

"Yes. I want you to fuck me. Right now."

Man, I love her fierceness. And her honesty. But we're not quite done yet, and besides there's basic dynamics to establish here. I curb my chuckle into a lopsided smile. "While I love your enthusiasm babygirl, we'll clearly need to work on your patience... I'm very much looking forward to that." 

I watch the impact of my words with barely-concealed satisfaction. Sandra sucks in her breath when they first hit, and then gasps softly, almost panting as she nods her head faintly, her eyes locked with mine.

"Yes, sir." The soft-spoken words damn near unman me. 

"Good girl. Now, I'll ask again: what else is there on your wish list?"

"I - let me see..." She breaks eye contact to look at her list again. When she looks back up at my face her expression is soft, almost wistful.

"Well, the biggest thing on my wish list is just - being submissive to you. I mean, as a state of mind. To have you lead me and to follow your directions. To let you do what you want with me and enjoy that freedom that comes from giving up control over my own body, my own pleasure. To experience new things that you want me to experience. To please you with my submission."

I breathe in deep, let the oxygen and her words wash through my body, fuel the burning in my gut even higher. God I want her so bad.

Focus, Dan.

"Babygirl, that's one area where we are 100% compatible, I promise. Having you submit to me, leading you in our play, taking control over your body for both our pleasure - that is absolutely number one on my wish list, too."

Our breaths sound louder than usual in the small silence that follows, our eyes glinting in our growing excitement. I can see Sandra start to lean towards me and then stop herself, look up at me, and mutely await my instructions.

"Ah... good girl. Just a few more minutes baby. I think we've covered most of it; there are just a couple of other things that are important to me before we can start playing."

"Okay" she mumbles softly and bites her lip before leaning back to look at me expectantly.

"So, switching - what you did the other day going all bossy sexy nurse on me..." I give her a pointed look.

Sandra giggles but answers sweetly - "Yes, what about it?" 

I shake my head at her cheekiness. "I liked it, as you very well know. But I'm not 100% sure I want to go there again. So I guess that would fall under a 'soft limit' for me... it's okay for you to push, but I cannot guarantee not pushing back. All right?"

Her teeth nibble on her full, pink bottom lip again. "Yes, sir." she says quietly and licks the sting of the small bite away, her eyes narrowing on my mouth as I absentmindedly mirror the gesture. In an instant I become aware of my dick again, confined painfully inside my jeans. I brush my thumb along her damp lips which open willingly, the tip of her tongue sneaking in between her teeth to catch the taste of my skin. I pull back before I succumb to the utter temptation of her mouth.

"One more thing."

She sucks in a shaky breath. "Yes?"

"Exclusivity."

The air leaves her lungs in a loud whoosh. "Yes sir."

I raise her face with my fingers under her chin so that our gazes lock once more. "I know we haven't 'defined' anything yet in terms of our relationship. You may or may not have been seeing other people -" 

Sandra starts protesting and I move my thumb to rest on her lips again, shushing her.

"Shh, that's okay baby. I'm not saying that you did, or that it's wrong if you did. All I'm saying is we haven't discussed it before; but we are going to now, and from my end it's simple: I want us to be exclusive, starting right now. No dating other people, no fucking other people, and absolutely no playing with anybody else. Agreed?"

She nods her head slowly and her eyes twinkle at me even before she parts her lips and sucks my thumb slowly into her mouth all the way to the first knuckle, gently licking its pad with her tongue as she bobs her head just that single inch up and down the thick, rough flesh.

The hot, wet, light sucking sensation explodes on my nerve-endings, sharp jolts shooting straight to my aching balls and now throbbing cock. I swear I can feel the fluttering of her tongue right on my cock head, as if it were lapping the pre-cum that had already seeped out of the small slit.

Sandra's lips curve up around my thumb and with a moan she pushes herself forward, taking it as deep as she can into her mouth, sucking harder. I feel my balls pull tight and start tingling.

My God she's going to fucking make me cum in my pants with nothing but her lips on my goddamn finger. No fucking way.

I let the fingers of my free hand tunnel into the hair at her nape and fist there, holding her head tightly in place as I pull my wet thumb from the hot, moist recess of her mouth. Instead of letting her go I rub my warm, damp finger along the rim of her lips, effectively turning the tables on her. 

Her eyes widen and her breath catches in the back of her throat before her eyelids grow heavy and the tension leaves her neck to loll back in surrender, her lips parting and seeming to swell under my finger. She moans deeply at my slow, deliberate strokes.

"Fuck yeah, babygirl... just like that." 

Watching her succumb to my touch is even more exhilarating that having her suggestively suck on my thumb. My self-control hangs by a thread. I need to break the spell, now.

Slowly withdrawing my touch I lean back and smile at the way Sandra follows me forward, trying to keep contact with my fingers before reluctantly accepting their departure and settling back against the sofa, a small pout now decorating her darkened, plump lips.

"So babygirl... you ready to play?"

"Oh yes. I'm so ready. Yes sir!"

I breathe deeply, drinking in the naked need and anticipation in her eyes, feeling my muscles tighten as I catch and ride a renewed surge of adrenaline, my heart thumping hard in my chest.

"Good girl." 

*

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Author's note: Did you like this chapter? Tell me, please! VOTE, FAVORITE and COMMENT. Thanks!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 07



Author's note: 

Thank you to my co-creator and editor, the brilliant Brit, who co-wrote this chapter with me :) 

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub and ended up at the hospital where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew over the weeks following his release until finally they became lovers. Sandra wants Dan to dominate her, while Dan fears doing so would put Sandra at risk. Finally, after talking to his shrink and establishing limits with Sandra, their first play session is set to begin. 

In this chapter: One long, hot play session. Ooooh yeah baby! :D 

~~~~~~~ 

"So babygirl... you ready to play?" 

"Oh yes. I'm so ready. Yes sir!" 

I breathe deeply, drinking in the naked need and anticipation in her eyes, feeling my muscles tighten as I catch and ride a renewed surge of adrenaline, my heart thumping hard in my chest. 

"Good girl." 

I keep my voice low, pause to let my approval resonate between us, and watch Sandra's cheeks warm and her lips part with her tiny whimper. God, she's sweet. This beautiful, sexy, total newbie little subbie, watching me with those wide, trusting eyes. Fuck, she's gorgeous. 

I give myself another mental shake. This is Sandra's first play session, and I've been planning it for a whole week in my mind. I want it to be perfect for her. To do that, I need to keep my focus. 

Focus, Dan. 

Feeling myself slip into my well-practiced role is like coming home. I let the familiar sense of calm settle around me, steadying my voice as I give her my first instructions. 

"Babygirl, I want you to clear the table, take the pitcher and empty glasses back into the kitchen, wash them and put them to dry. Then I'd like you to spend five minutes mentally composing yourself, relaxing your mind and your body into accepting whatever I may ask you to do. When that time is up, come back into the living room, stand on the rug facing me with your feet shoulder width apart, shoulders back and hands behind you clasped above your ass, and wait for my next instruction. Is that clear babygirl?" 

She's been listening to me closely, nodding her head at each of my directions, and now she smiles shyly at my question. 

"Yes sir, all clear." 

I nod my approval and without further comment Sandra rises from the sofa, picks up the glasses and pitcher and turns to the kitchen. 

Good. I have about six minutes to prepare the scene. 

I quietly walk to the bedroom, strip and grab a towel from the en-suite, hitching it round my waist as I walk. Picking up a pillow from the bed I trot back to the living room, dump the pillow on the chair and rearrange the coffee table and the shaggy purple rug so that they are pushed back a couple of steps away from the single, cushioned chair. Close enough to feel intimate, far enough to be the perfect performing distance. I smile, picturing my plans for Sandra in my mind. 

Reaching down to the side of the chair I lift my overnight case, open it and remove a compact kitchen timer, the sort you dial to the desired minute and then watch it slowly whirr its way backwards. This one sounds a metallic purr that grows louder the closer it gets to its goal until it announces the time's up with a loud ping; perfect for my purpose. I place it on the side table next to the chair and return the case to the floor. With my preparations done I tuck the pillow behind me and settle back, waiting, allowing myself to indulge in my rising excitement for just a moment while I'm still by myself. 

Fuck, this is really happening. It's already started, and by God I'm going to see it through. 

Right on time Sandra walks through the kitchen door into the living room, sneaking a look at me before moving forward to the rug and then turning to stand facing me, her feet apart and her hands behind her back. I can see the slight hitch in her breathing as she obviously tries to quieten her anxiety. 

"Well done on your first instructions, babygirl." 

I let the praise warm my tone, and watch its effect on Sandra - her tiny sigh of relief, the faint blush on her cheeks, the curl at the corner of her mouth. Some of the tension leaves her shoulders. Good. 

I decide to let her stand there for a bit longer, just to get used to what must be a strange feeling - standing in front of me, being watched. Complete silence envelopes us, broken only by the ticking of the wall clock as my eyes follow the rise and fall of her lovely chest beneath her soft cotton top. 

Soon her breathing slows down as her nerves subside and then it grows deeper, fuller with her growing excitement. So she likes being watched, my babygirl. My next words, though spoken in the same calm, steady voice, break the silence and cause her to jump. 

"Very good, babygirl. Now strip for me. I want you as naked as the day you were born, clothes neatly folded at your feet and all jewelry including your watch laid on top. When you're done please resume your position." 

Sandra glances up to look into my eyes, and I catch the arousal written all over her face. She starts stripping, following my instructions without hesitation, sweetly submissive and incredibly sexy to watch. I can see she is torn between giving me a show, systematically stripping, and throwing all of her clothes off at once. 

Methodical wins and I am treated to her luscious body slowly and surely exposing itself to my appreciative gaze. My body tightens as her tits are freed from her bra, and my gaze glides along the clear tan lines separating the milky-white orbs from her otherwise light-golden chest. She must look sensational in that bikini I think, and at the same time I note with satisfaction there's more than enough skin to color and leave my marks on, if I so choose. On the other hand her tits are so damn-near perfect it would be a shame to mar them... such delightful choices to make! 

By the time her panties begin their journey South I am sporting a hard on a pole vaulter could have used. She steps out of them and folds them onto the neat pile at her feet. 

She is completely naked now, and the soft light from the corner table adds an ethereal glow to her skin. She reaches back to release the catch on her simple gold necklace, the movement making her gorgeous breasts perk and lift and my mouth to water in response. While she fumbles with the catch I notice for the first time the peculiar-looking pendant that's been hiding in the valley of her chest under her T-shirt, but I can't quite catch its details. In another moment she's got it off and is bending down to put it on top of her pile of clothes, followed by her watch, and then stands upright again with her gaze firmly fixed to the floor. 

This time when I break the silence it is in a lower, rougher, but equally steady voice. 

"You look sensational, babygirl." 

She breathes sharply and when she answers her voice is soft, almost dreamlike. "Thank you sir". 

"Look at me baby. Let me see those beautiful eyes." 

Sandra lifts her gaze up, but I'm not sure she quite sees me. Her eyes look darker, her pupils dilated, her stare slightly unfocused as her attention is focused inwards, lingering on the sensations and feelings brought to the fore by this first taste of submission. 

So beautiful. Fuck. With some regret I pull her out of her reverie for a few moments. 

"How are you doing, babygirl?" 

Her eyes re-focus on mine and she blinks, breathing in a bit shakily, and a slow, tentative smile curls her lips upwards. 

"I'm good. Real good, I think... am I doing okay so far?" 

The tinge of insecurity in her question is endearing. How can she not know how amazing she really is? I feel my smile stretch across my face. "You're absolutely incredible, baby. And you're doing very well indeed. Ready for more?" 

I can actually see her standing taller hearing the pleasure in my voice. 

"Yes sir. I'm ready." 

'Good girl. Come here baby, and kneel between my feet." 

Leaning forward I remove the pillow from behind me and place it on the floor. Sandra takes the couple of paces needed and lowers herself smoothly onto the pillow, using her hands on my thighs for support before bringing them behind her back again, her ass resting on her heels. 

"Perfect." 

I reach behind her head to gently tug down the elastic band holding her hair in a simple ponytail, until the silky strands spill over her shoulders in a sweet-smelling cascade. I place the hair band on the side table and then bury both my hands in her hair, letting my fingertips lightly massage and soothe her scalp. Sandra moans her pleasure, her eyes closing and her head tilting back into my exploring fingers. 

"Mmmmm... that feels so good." 

"Glad you like it babygirl. You may enjoy this massage as long as you keep talking to me... tell me how you felt just now, stripping for me like you did, and then coming here to kneel at my feet." 

She takes her time before answering, rubbing her cheek against the inside of my thigh like a kitten begging to be stroked. I oblige her, sensing her need for reassurance, and can feel her relax into my touch as she replies. 

"Well... I was surprised how that simple act of your giving me instructions, and my following them - how it completely changed the dynamic between us. How submissive it made me feel." 

I peer down at her. "Hmm. And how do you like that feeling?" 

"Oh it's absolutely amazing... I love it!" A soft, nervous giggle escapes her, as if she can't quite believe it herself. 

I smile. "It shows, babygirl... You submit beautifully. I loved watching you strip for me. And you look absolutely stunning right now - naked, kneeling, and rubbing against my legs like a sweet little kitten." 

Sandra inhales sharply and her eyes turn up to look boldly into mine, shining her need at me. 

"It feels incredible, sir. It's exhilarating. I have a million butterflies in my stomach but it's all good - I've never felt anything like this before..." She presses her head back against my massaging fingers, closing her eyes and soaking up the sensations. 

"Mmm... and are you getting hot for me baby? Is that sweet pussy warming for me just a bit?" 

Another giggle escapes her throat. "Just a bit? I'm freakin' soaked, and you haven't even touched me!" She exclaims, color rising in her cheeks, her eyes growing wide in disbelief at her own boldness. 

I can't help but chuckle. She's such a delight, and I can't quite believe yet that I have her here, submitting to me like this. Her words however give me the confidence to push forward to the next part of my plan for tonight. My stiff, swollen dick twitches with excitement under the towel. 

"That's good to know baby because I'm hot for you, too, and what's coming next is going to be a challenge for both of us, made all the more fun since we're both a bit on edge already." 

Her eyes sparkle. I briefly consider throwing my plan to the bin and simply fuck her silly right here and now, but the errant thought is firmly squashed. This is going to be so much better. With both my hands I tilt her head back so that I can watch her expression as I give her my directions. 

"Babygirl, for the next 30 minutes I want you to focus all your attention on making love to my cock with your mouth. You may also use your hands if you wish. There are however two rules to this exercise: you must not make me cum, and you must not let me go soft, either. Should I do either the exercise will come to an end, and you will be withheld from getting your first reward. Do you understand your task?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Good. Now, during your task I want you to completely block out whatever is happening around you. Should a herd of wildebeest run through the room you will ignore them. Should your phone ring it is of no concern to you. Your entire being for this time is to pleasure me. Absolutely nothing else exists except you and me, your mouth and my cock." 

Her face softens as I talk, her eyes getting that far-away look again, and then drop towards my lap where my painful erection had already tented the towel. Before she can start, however, I bring her face up once more to give her some final pointers. 

"Bear in mind that to make this exercise more... entertaining... I may decide to watch the television, read a book, talk on the phone or just generally relax, anything but concentrate on my hard on. On the other hand I may also deliberately indulge in my excitement, in which case it is more likely that I cum. So it would be essential that you concentrate on the task if you want to succeed in this first challenge. Is that all clear, babygirl?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Good, then you may begin." Reaching over to the side table I retrieve the kitchen timer, wound its dial to 30 minutes, and replace it on the wooden top where we both can see it. 

"Your time starts now." 

I settle back for half an hour of pure enjoyment. I used to use this exercise in the past to get my sub into the right mindset, and also to give a designated start of play. I figured it would work well as a first-taste for a total newbie, too. 

Sandra's fingers tremble as they reach for the towel at my hips and tug it open, revealing the engorged member beneath. Leaning forward she eyes her prize, bowing to kiss its swollen head almost reverently before bending further to slowly lick the underside of my cock with one long, sensuous stroke, closely followed by another and another and another, her tongue occasionally flicking the plum until I am so hard my freaking skin feels too tight around my shaft. 

Fuck. She's only two minutes in and already I'm about to explode. Better get your attention elsewhere, officer, or you'll disappoint both of you on your very first play session. You don't want that now, do you? 

Reaching across to the table again I grab the copy of Home Improvement Monthly and blindly open it on an article titled 'Renewable Energy in the Solar World and the Economic Savings With Correct Installation'. I make myself read the first paragraph. Fascinating stuff I comment snarkily inside my head, but I'll take any distraction I can get right now. Her tongue has ceased its leisurely licking and is now wrapped around the helmet along with her soft, wet lips. 

Fuck. I hadn't thought this session through, apparently... I hadn't quite factored in just how good she was with her mouth. 

Her lips sink slowly and very deliberately down the length of my dick until they kiss my pubic hair and my cock head is firmly buried in her throat, the vision of the slight bulge in her slender neck making me even harder. Suddenly she starts to hum and I let out an involuntary groan of delight. 

She looks up, still with her throat around my cock and I can see the question in her eyes: 'Am I doing good baby?' I just lean back and groan my approval while rapidly engrossing myself again in the wonders of the sun and its benefits to the environment... Anything to stop me from exploding. Anything! 

'A solar panel sited to be only ten degrees off true South and 15 degrees from a required elevation will lose 18% of its maximum efficiency on a day with cloud cover not exceeding the stipulated norms. Should the degree of mis-siting increase then the efficiency will exponentially decrease with...' 

Sandra has sensed my imminent orgasm and clearly noticed my attempt to bury myself in the article. She releases me from her throat and goes back to licking the shaft up and down. Long slow teasing licks, but not hitting the head with each swipe this time. 

Thank fuck that's working I think as I feel the excruciating throb in my bell end decrease. I now make a concerted effort to read the magazine and slowly feel the clenched muscles low in my belly relax until finally I am able to draw a full breath. 

Phew. Out of danger zone for now. 

A few minutes longer of light, slow, teasing licks and kisses, some of them venturing away from my dick to the crease of my thigh or over towards my abdomen, and I can actually feel the edge of my hardness lessen. I relax enough to notice the timer's whirr now, the sound just noticeable above our breaths and soft moans. I let my fingers glide and stroke through Sandra's smooth hair, enjoying the silky feel under my pads, my breath slowing down to near-normal. 

Sandra senses the drop of tension in my muscles and decides to change tactics again. Taking my testicles in one hand she gently rolls them between her fingers, and with her other hand she strokes the oh-so tender area between the balls and my ass. Fuck that feels good. Again I start to groan in approval. I can sense Sandra's grin as she lowers her head and sucks on the very tip of my cock once more, her tongue gently teasing the hole that is now producing as much pre cum as I can ever remember. 

Jeez this is getting difficult. And we're only 10 minutes into the game. 

Frantically I page over to read about 'Damp Proofing Basement Extensions', but her sucking is bringing me closer and closer to the edge. Just as I am about to explode she nips the head with her teeth, just hard enough to get my attention. 

"Ow fuck!" I yelp and any thought of cumming instantly vanishes, along with any feeling of peace and relaxation. 

Sandra instantly glances up and her eyes open wide in horror when she sees the expression on my face; I am not happy. Yes, her little bite had the desired effect of stopping my orgasm, but teeth are an instant passion killer for me, an absolute no-no. In fairness I hadn't told her that, but I have no doubt that she got the message as she quickly goes back to sweetly, softly and lovingly sucking my helmet in order to make me happy again. 

Her renewed efforts soon achieve their desired effect and bring my slightly wilting cock back up to full hardness. The following twenty minutes are a delicious game of suck and stop, massage and cease, lick and tease. 

At some point she tries slowing down by releasing my dick from the depths of her hot, wet mouth and instead nuzzling against me, letting her nose bump and press gently against my balls while my throbbing dick glides and rubs along her cheeks, aided by the copious precum seeping from its slit. But instead of cooling me off, watching the shimmering trails of sticky juice decorating her face and stringing from her skin to my cock head almost sends me over the edge again, and I feel my balls tighten up and the familiar tingling at the base of my spine, hear my own breath hitch in the back of my throat - 

Sandra catches onto the early signs of pending orgasm and hastily withdraws, ceasing all stimulation abruptly. I hiss between my teeth, teetering right there on the edge of climax for endless seconds, my fists balled, my stomach clenched and my eyes shut tightly. 

Fuck. Who's challenge is this anyways, hers or mine?! It would serve her right if I came now, teasing me mercilessly like that... 

But no, I'd be damned if I failed her on her first challenge. Suck it up, Dan. Hold it. 

I open my eyes and look at her face as she watches my dick closely, with fascinated yearning. Her lips are slightly swollen from the prolonged blow job, darkened to a cherry-red color and slightly parted to allow for her quick breaths, her eyes softened with that slightly out-of-focus quality that I've just come to recognize with her submissive state of mind. My cock throbs and twitches as if trying to jump back into that pretty mouth and she blinks her surprise and giggles, her gaze shooting up to meet mine, the color on her cheeks deepening to bright crimson. 

God she's sweet. I can't help myself; I bend down to kiss her deeply, losing myself for several moments in her taste and her softness before pulling back. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 07



"Just a couple of minutes longer babygirl. You're doing so incredibly well. Keep going... I can't wait to give you your reward." 

Sandra smiles widely and bows low to take my cock into her mouth again, bobbing her head slowly and steadily with full dedication, humming again, as if chanting a mantra. The sensation is phenomenal, and I feel my balls tightening up yet again. 

The ticking of the timer sounds very loudly now on the table next to us, and I know she can hear it, too. With just a minute to go she glances up at me and lets me see the devilish glint in her eyes as she starts to suck harder, faster, working her tongue against the underside, up and down, up and down, and then she's pushing all the way down so that her nose is nestled tightly against my pubis and the head of my cock is fully buried in her throat. Just as the timer starts to whirr obnoxiously loudly she swallows around my hot, engorged dick, milking and massaging the whole shaft from tip to base... 

PING! echoes around the room, and she instantly rubs her fingers hard against my perineum adding an acutely pleasurable pressure to the overwhelming sensory overload, now moaning loudly all around me. 

I explode in bliss, my cum spewing rope after rope down her throat as she continues to finger- massage me and gently suck and swallow every drop from my excruciatingly sensitive cock, the delicate lapping and licking going on long after I had finished cumming. 

After a couple of minutes indulging in her loving attention I gently take her hair in one of my hands and lift her head so she can look at me, my cock slipping out of her lips and flopping back down onto my thigh. 

"Babygirl, that was absolutely incredible. Come here." 

I help her up from her kneeling position, pulling her to sit on my lap and cuddle close. She buries her face in the crook of my neck and breathes in deeply, her arms sneaking around my torso to hug me tight while my own hands glide slowly up and down her smooth back, soothing and calming her further. 

A few minutes pass as her soft, warm nakedness relaxes under my hands, and then I feel her starting to squirm in my lap, her lips beginning to trail kisses up my neck to the underside of my jaw, quickly adding small licks and tiny sucks as she obviously tries to get my attention. I pull back and grin down at her upturned face. 

"You trying to tell me something babygirl?" 

She smiles slowly and nods her head, but says nothing. 

"Ahhh... might it have something to do with a certain reward you were promised?" 

"Mmm... yes sir." She admits softly, an excited undercurrent peeking behind her shy smile. 

I tilt my head to one side, suppressing my answering grin, and instead raise an eyebrow. "You know, babygirl, that was mighty cheeky of you, doing what you did. I never did tell you to get me off. I specifically said you were to suck me for 30 minutes without letting me cum." I say, watching the emotions sweep across her face. 

I expect some nerves to show at my words, mildly-spoken as they were, but can see none in her expression. Instead, her eyes twinkle with distinct feistiness and she pulls herself back, straightening her spine and sticking out her chin, damn cute as she holds her own even as she's sitting butt-naked and horny on my lap. 

"You never told me NOT to get you off when the time's up" she points out boldly. "I followed your directions to the tee." 

My chuckle escapes my throat before I can catch it. "Ha! That you did, babygirl. That you did. I see I may need to set up some rules around taking the initiative in session without my explicit permission..." She bites her lip looking just a tiny bit remorseful, and I am almost knocked over by my answering need to reassure her. "But indeed today you've done nothing but follow my instructions in the best way possible, and for that you deserve your very first reward. You ready for that, babygirl?" 

She releases her abused bottom lip to sigh softly, heat burning in her eyes. "Yes, please. I'm so ready!" 

I take her head in both my hands and kiss her hard before growling into her smiling lips. "Good. Get up and go over to the coffee table. Lie down on your back and spread your legs wide for me. Go." 

Sandra almost jumps off my lap and then pretty much knocks my socks off as instead of walking the few steps over to the coffee table she drops down to her hands and knees. Throwing me a hot, seductive look behind her shoulder and wiggling her juicy ass at me she starts to crawl over to the coffee table in slow, exaggerated movements. 

God she's going to kill me. And I'm going to die a happy man. 

I can see her swollen pink labia peeking from between the rounded tops of her thighs and I am immensely grateful for having just cum. If I hadn't I'd already be buried balls-deep inside of her, all plans for rewarding her be damned. I lean forward, forearms on knees, taking in every minute detail of the show she's giving me. 

When she reaches the coffee table Sandra gets up, turns and sits down on the low, solid surface before sinking further to lie flat on her back as instructed. The oval table is made of thick natural wood, smoothed and stained to a gleaming dark sheen, its edges softly rounded. The dark background contrasts beautifully with her golden-creamy skin and blond hair, and at that moment I wish I had a camera with me to take her picture like that. I make a mental note to ask her how she feels about having her picture or video taken. For now, I simply commit the breathtaking view to memory. 

She's fucking gorgeous like that. 

I get up and pick up the towel left behind me on the sofa, folding it neatly as I walk forward till I get onto the carpet, looming tall over her, and then walk slowly around the table, my paces muted by the thick cotton under my naked feet. Sandra follows me with a hint of apprehension in her eyes until I get behind her shoulder; instead of craning her neck back to keep eye contact she relaxes and closes her eyes, giving up that little measure of control. 

God she submits beautifully. 

"Mmm... very good babygirl. You look so tasty spread out on the table like that, it's hard to decide which part of you I'm going to eat first..." 

I can hear her breath hitch at my words and she moans softly and opens her thighs even wider, letting her knees drop out and arching her back, pushing her chest up, clearly indicating which parts of her body she would most appreciate feeling my mouth on. 

I crouch down and gently lift her head with one hand, slipping the folded towel under it with the second. "There you go baby. Let's get you to be nice and comfortable for your reward." 

She smiles and opens her eyes to meet mine again. "Thank you" 

"You're very welcome babygirl." I lean in for a quick kiss but withdraw before we can get carried away. "Now let's talk safewords for a minute. We're going to use the traffic light system. Are you familiar with it?" 

"Ahm, only theoretically, but yes I know how it works. Green means 'Go', Yellow means 'Slow', and 'Red' means 'Stop'." 

"That's right. Now you may use these safewords whenever you need them and as many times as you need to. It may take a while for me to learn your body's reactions and I cannot read your mind, so I need you to communicate verbally if you're uncomfortable or if something is wrong. Okay?" 

At her nod I continue. "I may also ask you 'what's your color' and expect a prompt and honest answer. Understood?" 

"Yes sir." She mumbles, closing her eyes again and breathing deep, but I cannot quite tell if it's because she fears she may need those safewords or because she's excited by the possibility. 

"Hmm. So tell me babygirl, what's your color right now?" 

Her eyes fly open and clash with mine. "Oh it's green, sir. Please, I'm all green!" 

I laugh my relief. "Good! In that case, here are the rules for the rest of this session. First, only speak if you're spoken to or if you need to use your safewords. I love hearing your voice and you're free to make any noise you want, but I want your mind focused on receiving, on feeling the sensations in your body, not on conversation. All right?" 

"Yes sir." Her voice is so soft and breathy, so fucking sexy, I almost regret my own rule. Almost. 

"Good, and second, keep still. Remember that the pace of your reward is mine to decide, not yours. Keep your body flat on the table; there will be immediate consequences if you don't. Got it?" 

Her breathing quickens noticeably with my words, her nipples tightening further. "What - what consequences?" She manages to ask. 

"Try it out and you'll see." I say evenly, laying out the bait tantalizingly clear before her. She groans deep in her throat but then nods again. "Yes sir." 

I smile and take a deep breath of my own, blowing it out slowly and evenly. I run my hand down her torso, between her rose-tipped breasts and down her stomach to her lower abdomen, softly massaging the low mound of her belly before coming up to stroke the outer curves of her tits with both hands, then pushing them close together and bending to lick and kiss the gorgeous orbs while still avoiding her nipples. I hear her quickly drawn breath and feel the movement in her hips and waist as she starts to squirm and arch, but then stops herself short remembering my order to keep still. 

"Mmm, very very good babygirl... you're being such a good girl for me." 

I reward her by returning my mouth to her skin, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her ribcage to the dip of her belly button and lower still to the crease of her leg, then up her side all the way back to her tits again where I finally suckle gently on those pebble-hard tips while kneading the flesh around them gently, repeatedly, enjoying the tension I can sense in her muscles as she fights with herself to curb her responses. So sweet. 

Finally I draw back and rise up to my feet, feeling my dick at half-mast - surprisingly soon after my recent climax - bobbing in front of me as I walk around her until I come to a stand between her spread thighs, and slowly kneel on the carpet, pushing her knees further out as I do. The table is quite low, and I note with satisfaction that with her feet on the floor her knees are still slightly higher than her hips, which should prevent the strain on her lower back from becoming too intense. I plan to keep her in this position for a while. 

Her eyes are back on me and I smile; I'm happy to let her watch. "Put your hands under your head babygirl so that you can see better, and remember to keep quiet and still." I say, sliding my palms up and down from knees to hips and back, lightly and soothingly. She breathes in and nods, and I bend down to start kissing and tasting the soft skin at her inner thighs. Her muscles jump on initial contact and I hear her whimper softly whenever my lips venture closer to her pussy, but she keeps her position and I smile into her skin. 

"You're such a good girl baby..." 

I raise my head enough to take a close look at her pretty pink pussy, noting the hint of wetness gleaming around the dark-pink hole, the way her outer labia seem slightly swollen and peeled back to allow her inner lips to peek through. The smell of her need thick in the air between us. 

So something about this situation has definitely made her horny. Whether it was the 30-minute blow-job, her submission to me, the potential of punishment or the expectation for her reward I still don't quite know, but as a whole I can tell with certainty that she likes the session so far. Yes! 

I bend over to lick along the crease to the right of her pussy with a wet, flat tongue, the scent of her sex and the bare hint of her taste going straight to my head and stiffening my cock further. I groan and repeat the movement on the other side of her groin and feel her knees close around my ears in reaction, trying to push my face to the center. 

Straightening up, I deliver two quick spanks to her inner thighs, one on each side, and she squeals in surprise. Her eyes shoot up to meet mine again but I am pleased to note that she spreads her knees again and keeps quiet, remembering the 'no talking' rule. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, I told you to be still or face the consequences, babygirl" I say mildly and her eyes widen. I can almost see the wheels in her head turning as she catches on to the little game I'd devised for her, and I almost laugh out loud as she arches her back off the table, unprompted, obviously testing my reaction. 

I oblige by reaching out and slapping the side of her breast, watching her flesh jiggle at the impact as her creamy skin blooms in light pink. She gasps loudly but holds my gaze steadily with her heavy-lidded stare as she deliberately repeats her movement and arches her back right off the table once more. 

I smile. "So you like this game, babygirl?" and slap her other breast, leaving a twin quickly-fading mark on her sensitive skin. She sucks her breath in and then answers shakily: "Ohh yes sir... yes I love this game!" 

"Good. Now hush and keep still, unless you crave those spankings more than you do my mouth on your pussy..." 

I can see her inner debate written all over her flushed face and smoldering eyes as I lower my face again until my lips come in contact with her swollen folds and I start eating her out for real. She tries to hold my gaze at first but soon her eyes roll back and close as the pleasure builds and I revel in her surrender, licking and sucking up and down her slippery slit, my lips pulling at her wet, engorged labia, taking it deep into my mouth before moving to circle my tongue around her stiff clit.  

"Mmm, mmm, ohmygod-ohmygod that feels so good!" Sandra moans and mumbles to no one in particular and while I did say 'no talking' I figure this doesn't really count - I'm not sure she even noticed that she said anything - and go back to circling her erect little nub, moving my tongue a little quicker this time. 

"Ohmygod yes, please, yes!" she moans and pushes her pussy up into my mouth, her hips suspended above the table. I smack sharply on the lower part of her upturned pelvis where her perineum meets her rosebud in between the bottom curves of her ass cheeks. SWAT! 

Sandra shrieks and immediately pulls back, putting her hips down on the table, breathing hard. 

"Sorry! I'm sorry..." 

I let my fingers rub gently over the tingling skin, the movement smoothed by the juice trickling down from her pussy towards her anus. 

"Shhh... no need to apologize babygirl. You did nothing wrong. It's all fair part of the game - if you move you get spanked; if you stay still you get pleasured. I am delighted to do both - so the choice is yours to make..." I hear her gasp as I confirm what she must have suspected already: her real reward is to be pleasured, or spanked, or any mix of the two - and it is hers to control and navigate within the boundaries I have set for our game. 

It's our first play session, and this way I can give her what she needs without risking pushing her too far, and her choices would help me learn more about her. That knowledge would most certainly come in handy in future sessions... 

Sandra relaxes back against the table, moving her hands out from under her head to grab the table on both sides for better leverage. "Oh lord..." she mumbles and then falls quiet as she boldly opens herself to me, letting her knees and her elbows drop open and closing her eyes, the epitome of trust and surrender. My heart lurches into my throat. So fucking amazing. 

I lean over her to kiss her soft belly before moving down over the blond fuzz on her mound and finally back down to her smooth, creamy lips, hooking my hands under her spread thighs and holding onto her hip bones as I delve back into her sweetness. In the back of my mind I realize I'm trying to keep her hips immobile because right now I really want to give her pleasure, not pain. 

Soon I discover I have nothing to worry about as she fully complies with my instructions, keeping as still as can be, moaning low almost constantly now as I finally focus on her clit and suck it firmly, my lips clamped around the top of her slit, my tongue stroking its underside inside my mouth. 

Her moans are growing harder still and her hips finally start to struggle against my hands but I hold on tight, not letting her lift them off the table, driving her higher and higher towards her climax. Her hands fly back down to her sides and hold onto the edges there, knuckles turning white until with a half- shout, half- wail she crunches her abs and raises the top half of her body, both shoulders and head coming clear off the table, her eyes finding and locking with mine, her need glinting hard in their blue depths, challenging me. 

"C'mon already!" she hisses through clenched teeth and I cannot pretend not to understand her meaning. Raising my head as well as my right palm I let it stay poised in the air just above her pussy for a heartbeat looking straight into her eyes. She doesn't flinch, doesn't cower at the obvious threat. She just pleads me with her eyes to do it. I bring my hand down swiftly, delivering a sharp, biting spank right onto her wet, swollen cunt. 

"Ohmygaawwwdddd aaaagggghhhh!" Sandra screeches and throws her head back, her spine arched and her knees open wide as sensations run through her body. I watch her closely, gauging her reaction. After several moments of suspended breath she exhales and then drops her hips down to the table, her chest slightly heaving and her eyes still tightly closed. I lower my fingers to glide up and down her drenched slit, soothing the sting with a sweet layer of pleasure. 

Once most of the tension dissipates from her body I am ready to go back to my licking and sucking when she almost blows my mind as she raises her head and shoulders clear off the table again, looking me straight in the eye. 

"Harder, please!" 

Fuck. She wants me to spank her pussy again. I swallow hard but her look doesn't waver; her eyes are locked with mine, shining with her need. 

I spank her pussy again, just a bit harder. 

"Ffffuuuuuccckkk!" again her head is thrown back as her back arches, pushing her breasts up, the muscles in her stomach quivering. I can see her pussy squeeze onto itself, seeping even more juice down her crack, before it is finally lowered and she breathes hard while my fingers go back to rub softly along the swollen, creamy folds. 

Again she raises her head, the fire in her eyes almost scorching in its intensity. "Please sir, may I have another?" 

God I'm in danger of blowing my load just from the look on her face. And those words... asking for what she needs without any hesitation, begging me to take her through this experience, trusting me with it... Fuck she's incredible. 

I spank her pussy again. And again. And again. The rhythm is slow, deliberate, letting her absorb each and every swat to her hot cunt and then stroking the edge of the pain away, waiting for her explicit request before delivering the next one. 

Every time she asks for more I feel my belly clench further, my own need curling tighter. I ignore it. She needs this, she needs the sweet pain the spanking gives her, needs the all- encompassing experience where nothing exists but her body and my hand, and as long as she keeps asking I'll keep giving it to her. 

Her breath becomes more and more labored, catching hard with every stinging slap, and a sheen of sweat now covers her whole body. Her pussy looks swollen and almost red and strings of her cream now connect her ass to the table when she arches up. I can't help tasting her again, lapping along her slit in-between sharp spanks, and it feels as if a balloon is slowly growing just inside her vagina pushing everything out, making every fold swell and stand stiff and proud, her clit peeking out of its hood, begging for the direct feel of my hand when it comes down sharply again. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 07



"Ohmygod, ohmygod it hurts so good, ohmygod i'm so close please-please-pleeeaaassseee!" 

I can't hold on much longer, either. I need to make her cum and I need to fuck her soon. I let my fingers catch her clit in one final spank and then keep them on her flesh, rubbing the little nubbin quickly and persistently, aided by the copious juice making my touch slippery and smooth, not letting up this time. 

The swelling inside her grows even larger as her whole body starts to tremble and her head flies from side to side on the folded towel as if trying to escape the intensity of sensations coursing through her body. Then a keening, howling sound comes from the back of her throat and suddenly she's cumming under my fingers - "Ooohhh fffuuuckkk - ooohhh fffuuuckkk - I'm cummingggg!! - quaking and shaking and squirting juice that sprays out in hot, thick drops from under my dancing fingers, raining all over her belly and her thighs, and splatters to the rug below. 

"There you go babygirl... there you go. Fuck you're amazing... There you go baby..." 

I'm not even sure what I'm saying exactly, I'm so incredibly turned on by the sight in front of me, by the touch and the smell of this quivering wet mess of pure femininity, still trembling in aftershock of orgasm. My own fingers are shaking as I slow down to stroke along her slit again and then carefully sink just one finger into her tight depth. 

We both groan deeply. She's so hot and tight inside I think my finger is about to melt. I withdraw slowly and get up to my feet. 

"Wait right there babygirl. Don't you fucking move anywhere." 

My voice comes up gruffer, harsher than I intended but Sandra doesn't seem to be offended in the least. She opens her eyes just a crack and mumbles in-between huffs and puffs of air - 

"Yes sir." Heavy breathing. "I'll be right here." 

There's a hint of a smile on her lips now and I feel my own mouth curl upwards. 

God I want her. 

I stride over to her bedroom, grab a condom from the nightstand and get back to the living room within the space of 10 seconds. Getting back on my knees between her legs I tear the wrapper and roll the condom onto my steel-hard dick, which I could swear had never felt quite as swollen as it does right now. 

Holding the base of my cock in my hand I guide it to her spread pussy and circle it along her entrance for just a moment, collecting her juice around my aching head. I want to fuck her so hard, but I want to make sure I don't hurt her. She arches her back again. 

"Please, Dan... don't tease me anymore. Please fuck me hard." 

Her breathy request is my undoing. I grab her hips and pull them forward to the very edge of the table, pulling her legs up to rest on my shoulders. 

"Hold on to the table above your head babygirl." 

As soon as her hands take hold I wrap my hands around her thighs and start pushing into her. I can't slam in - she is so swollen inside it takes a slow, steady pressure interspersed with some back-and-forths to plow my way into her depths. But once seated all the way in I lean forward, folding her almost in half over the table, my hands planted on the surface at her waist. 

"Look at me babygirl. Look into my eyes while I fuck you." 

Her baby-blue eyes, still heavy with sated desire, come up to lock with mine and I smile as I draw back my hips and then push all the way into her again in one smooth stroke. 

Both our breaths catch. I hold still deep inside of her feeling her inner muscles give way, then squeeze and flutter around my dick, her eyes sparkling as she watches my reaction. Fuck this feels good. But I don't want to play games any more. I want to fuck her hard and fast until I cum deep inside. 

I lean back and grab hold of her hip bones in my hands, holding her pelvis suspended above the table. She bites her lip and tightens her hold on the table, bracing herself. My answering smile is all-teeth, a growl coming out of my throat. 

"Arrrggghhhh!" 

My hips start jerking sharp and hard while I pull her towards me at the same time, creating a fast and furious rhythm, making our bodies slap together and producing loud squelching noises whenever my dick bottoms out. My balls smack her perineum sharply, repeatedly and I feel my cum getting ready to erupt in any moment. 

She does something inside of her, squeezes around me, intensifies the sensation and within two more strokes I'm gone, all thought lost as I feel myself explode deep in her belly, squirting my cum in pulsing jets, sharp shards of pleasure shooting everywhere, so acute they're almost painful. My heart beats like crazy in my chest and I can't catch my breath, feeling a little dizzy all of a sudden. 

I lower her hips back to the table, lean forward with my hands next to her waist, my cock still buried deep inside her, and concentrate on regaining control on my lungs, my eyes staring unseeingly at the flushed skin of her chest below me. 

When my gaze focuses again I bring it up to Sandra's face, taking in the sweat on her brow, the high color on her cheeks - and the burning need that is now back in her eyes. Once she's got my attention she releases her fingers from where they were curled at the edge of the table and brings them to my chest, gliding their tips up and down my torso, clearly conveying her message. 

"I take it you're not quite done, babygirl? You wanna cum again?" I ask, not quite hiding the amusement in my voice. 

Her cheeks turn firehouse red but she nods enthusiastically. "Yes please sir!" 

I chuckle and move forward to sit fully on the narrow, oval table, pulling her hips high on top of my thighs. My spent cock slips out and I hike her hips even higher, so that her ass rests on my belly. Her legs slip off my shoulders and I grab her knees and push them out, staring at her red, wet, gaping cunt. The delicate tissues around her entrance look abused and swollen, and her clitoris protrudes out of its hood, erect and engorged, begging for attention. 

"I want to see how you do it, babygirl. I want you to masturbate for me while I watch. Can you do that, baby? Can you make yourself cum again for me, let me see how you pleasure yourself?" 

There's a moment of hesitation, followed by a renewed spark in her eyes as Sandra nods and slowly brings the fingers of her right hand to her lips, and sucks two slowly into her mouth. I watch as she licks all around and in between them, getting them fully coated with saliva, and then trails them down until they slide in an assured, practiced move into her inflamed slit. 

My eyes follow her fingers and I dare not blink as they immediately start moving, drawing tight circles with the flat of her pads right onto her clit. I notice the pressure seems stronger at the bottom of the circle and lighter at the top, and the way those circles evolve to unbelievably fast side-to-side strokes when her passion rises up to the pinnacle. Her eyes are closed and her back arches again so that only her head and shoulders are on the table and I need to hook my elbows with her knees and grab hold of her hips again to help keep her in that position while her fingers keep flying across her flesh until with a high screech she bucks and cums again, writhing and shivering and sobbing her release. 

"ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod yes-yes-yes ohmygod aaarrrrgggghhhhaaa!" 

Another small gush of juice seeps between her fingers and trickles down her clenching cunt and asshole. So fucking perfect. 

"Fuck yeah babygirl, that's right... You cum so fucking beautifully baby... There you go..." 

I watch her fingers slow down to a stop and then cup her pulsating pussy, squeezing lightly every few seconds while the rest of her body goes limp and I carefully push her off my thighs to lie down fully on the table, while I go back to kneeling on the carpet between her open knees. 

I lean in to kiss the back of her fingers over her pussy. "Absolutely beautiful, babygirl. I'll be right back." 

I leave her there for a moment to go to the bathroom, get rid of the soiled condom, wash up a bit and then return to her with a warm, wet washcloth. She's lying there with one hand still stroking very gently between her thighs, the other gliding along the sweaty undersides of her breasts, her eyes closed and her face relaxed, a tiny smile decorating her lips. 

So sweet. 

I crouch next to her and she blinks her eyes open, turning her head towards me, looking at me contently. 

"Hi." Her voice is soft, a little hesitant, as if belatedly remembering to be shy about everything that had transpired between us. 

"Hey babygirl." I lean in to kiss her briefly before using the warm washcloth on her face, neck, chest, and finally between her legs. Sandra blushes hard but lets me take care of her without comment and I wink at her. 

"I was looking forward for a chance to do this ever since you washed me at the hospital." 

She giggles. "Mmm... I'm happy to let you bed-wash me any day! Especially since I don't have the energy to move just yet..." 

"Mmm... I may take you up on that baby. Now let's go to bed, shall we? I'm sure the table is getting hard on your back, no?" 

She agrees with a small grimace and I help her up to walk hand-in-hand into her bedroom. There's an easy breeze coming in from the open window, its slight coolness welcome against our still-too-hot bodies. I push back the thin sheet cover and we both get in, rolling to our sides facing each other. I reach over to tuck her hair behind her ear, wanting to see her face. 

"So, babygirl, how was your first play session?" 

She blinks in surprise and then smiles slowly. "Are you fishing for compliments sir?" 

I laugh and smack her naked ass lightly. "Hey! And what if I am?" 

She giggles in response. "Oh! You're right, there's nothing wrong with compliments! I enjoyed it very, very much. And I'd very much like to do that again - play with you, that is. If you'd like to...?" 

There's that insecurity in her voice again. Can't she tell she blew my mind just now? 

"I most definitely would like to play with you again, babygirl. It was an absolute pleasure. I'm very glad you liked it, too. Now tell me this: was there anything that you would have had done differently? Anything that didn't work for you? Anything we should practice more before it is absolutely perfect?" I wink at her, making a half-joke of my question on purpose, knowing she needs to feel safe in answering honestly without worrying about hurting my feelings. 

She seems to mull it over in her head and then shakes it resolutely. "No, there was nothing I'd change. I admit I was a little embarrassed when you told me to masturbate in front of you but honestly even that turned out to be hotter than hell. I felt like a sex goddess... I loved it!" 

I draw her into my arms for a long, warm hug, our bodies touching from head to toe. "You are, you know... a sex goddess, that is. I swear I'm gonna start worshipping at your feet soon..." 

She giggles and shudders - "oh no, the horror!" and laughs into my chest hearing my chuckle. I push at her shoulder to roll her over to her other side so that I can spoon her from behind, pulling the sheet above both our bodies as I do. 

"Hmm... alright, maybe not. But you're absolutely the sexiest woman alive, babygirl, and I'll hear no arguments about that fact. Now let's get some sleep." 

"Mmm... 'kay" she mumbles and snuggles close and I bury my nose in her hair, smiling at her easy consent. 

"G'night babygirl." 

"Mmm 'night sir." 

* 

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Author's note: Did you like this chapter? Tell me, please! VOTE, FAVORITE and COMMENT. Thanks!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08



Author's note: 

Thank you to my co-creator and editor, the ruggedly handsome Brit! 

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew over the weeks following his release until finally they became lovers. Sandra wanted Dan to dominate her, while Dan struggled as he feared it would put Sandra at risk. After talking to his shrink and establishing limits with Sandra, they finally played for the first time - and yes, it was awesome! :) 

In this chapter: the road to recovery is full of twists and turns. 

~~~~~~~ 

Soft caresses over my chest coax me slowly to wakefulness, late on Saturday morning. Sandra is on her side, propped on an elbow, smiling at me. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead." Her amused eyes squint as her smile curves up. I yawn and stretch with a deep grunt before settling back and grinning sheepishly up at her. "Good morning, beautiful. Or is it afternoon already?" 

Sandra shakes her head apologetically at me. "I'd have loved to let you sleep in, but we have a lunch to go to, remember?" 

"Ah. Right." The family lunch. I roll over to sit at the side of the bed, my back to Sandra, trying to hide my unease. "How long do we have?" 

I hear her shuffling closer, and in the next moment her warmth surrounds me as she kneels on the bed behind my back, and hugs me close. "They're all going to like you, baby. I promise." She starts pressing small kisses along my shoulders, her hands sneaking under my arms to stroke enticingly down my belly. "Maybe I could show you how much I appreciate you coming with me today..." 

Some of the stiffness drains from my neck, flowing southwards to pool at my balls, making my morning wood twitch. I let my head rest back between Sandra's warm breasts, and allow her hands to roam freely. She strokes up and down my torso, moaning appreciatively in my ear as her hands find my full, rigid dick and wrap around it, lightly squeezing and starting a slow, maddening pumping motion. I relax back further, and after several long moments her thumb starts moving, too, stroking sweetly over the glans, smearing the first drop of pre-cum that had seeped from my slit all around the sensitive head. 

My cock twitches and jumps inside her firm grasp and she giggles breathily behind me. Ohh... so she thinks she's got me under her thumb, does she...? The said thumb makes its sweet gliding motion again, and I gasp. Another giggle tickles my ear, and I growl in mock warning. She's enjoying her power over me a bit too much, I think. 

I grab my pillow and throw it on the floor between my legs, and then turn to issue a quiet order over my shoulder: "get on your knees, babygirl." 

I hear the quick catch in her throat at my words, followed by a soft moan as she scrambles around me to settle down on her knees, looking up at me wide-eyed and expectant, her lips parted, her breath quickened. My cock twitches even harder. That's more like it. 

"Good girl." 

She breathes in deep, soaking up my approval. I smile. I love how her hair is still all messy from sleep, making her look vulnerable, unguarded, and I reach out to tuck it behind her ears. "You're so pretty like that, baby. Now hands down on your knees and ass down on your heels, please; and keep your eyes on me." 

She settles in position, breathes in and blows out slowly to calm herself down, and I smile and gently stroke her face. "Beautiful." I say, and let my fingers trace her slightly-open lips, her breath tickling my fingertips. "Now, I want you to get real messy when you suck me. Can you do that, babygirl? Use lots of spit; make it all wet and slippery?" 

Sandra smiles and licks her lips provocatively. "Oh yes sir, I sure can!" 

She works up some saliva in her mouth and leans forward slowly. At my nod she closes that last inch separating her lips and my cock, and spreads her spit up and down my shaft using her lips and tongue, first one side, then the other, then the underside. My swollen dick rolls over her face, sliding wetly against the soft skin of her cheek. It feels so good I hiss. She smiles wickedly up at me, and wraps the head with soft, wet lips, then lets it glide smoothly along her tongue, sinking deeper and deeper inside. Her pretty blue eyes never leave mine, and I can swear there's still laughter in their corners as she starts moving slowly, sweetly, up and down, swirling her tongue around the head with every out stroke. 

The picture before me - this beautiful, curvy blonde, on her knees, worshiping my cock with her mouth, looking up at me in horny submission, with just a hint of sass twinkling in the depths of her baby-blue eyes - it's absolutely perfect. I inhale sharply and let it wash over me, soaking it up. God, this feels right. 

Sandra grins at my obvious satisfaction and she reaches one hand up to firmly hold the base of my dick, starting to bob up and down more quickly. I groan with pleasure, but at the same time my fingers tunnel in her hair to fist at her nape and stop her movements. A moment later I tug her back, and my dick pops out of her mouth, which stays open in an adorable, surprised pout. 

"Uh-uh. I said hands down, babygirl." 

Sandra's startled look changes into a contrite little frown, and she hurriedly lowers her hands back to her knees, bites her lower lips as she peers up at me through her lashes. "Oh! I forgot... forgive me?" 

Man, she's got that perfect pout down pat. It makes me want to fuck her senseless, right then and there. With effort I keep my tone calm and controlled, if a little gravely. 

"Put them behind your back, babygirl; it would be easier to remember not to use them. Yeah, just like that..." I release my grip on her hair, instead letting my fingertips scrape along her sensitive scalp. Sandra shudders and gasps, goosebumps flaring down her neck and towards the tops of her breasts. I smile. "Now I want you to go deeper, baby. Gag yourself a little on my dick. I wanna see you work harder for it." 

She nods, her eyes hazy, as if focused internally, and leans forward to take my dick back into her mouth. With her hands behind her she has to work her core muscles to keep from tumbling over, and her whole body moves back and forth as she blows me. Soon the head of my cock bumps into the back of her mouth with every stroke, making small squelching sounds. And with every almost-gag her mouth floods with drool and her tongue and throat flutter and squeeze against me, delivering unbelievable pleasure to my throbbing, swollen member. 

I feel my face contort with pleasure as I fight the urge to throw my head back, determined to keep our eyes locked together. Hers are brimming with involuntary tears from gagging on my dick, and the drool that had pooled around my shaft starts to flow down her chin in twin little streams, dripping onto her sweaty, flushed breasts. And yet she keeps sucking me enthusiastically, taking only the occasional short break for a deeper breath before wrapping my dick with her wet lips once more. 

I feel the tingling of approaching orgasm and my hand tightens in her hair to tilt her head back as I stand up above her, my other hand shooting out to the side, to hold onto the wall, and I start fucking slowly, deeply into Sandra's tight throat. Every millimeter of my cock is hugged and squeezed in wet heat, and my pleasure spikes, pulsing and throbbing along with my galloping heartbeat. 

My new position above her throws Sandra slightly off-balance and I feel her lean her head heavily into my hand, trusting me to keep her from toppling back, while she submits fully to me, swallowing around me as I fuck her face. 

Our eyes are still locked together when I feel my cum rush up my shaft, and then spill deep inside her convulsing throat in hot pulses. Unable to stop myself I finally tear my eyes away from Sandra's, throw my head back and shout my pleasure, almost howling with its intensity. Sandra swallows again and again, milking my cock and sending wild shivers cascading down my back, until I can no longer bear it and I pull back, popping out of her mouth and bending over, trying to catch my breath, while Sandra leans her damp forehead against my hip, breathing hard between small coughs. 

I sit heavily back down on the bed and pull Sandra, still kneeling, into my arms. She cuddles close, melting into me, her nose nuzzling the crook of my neck, her quick breaths puffing softly against my sweaty skin. I squeeze her tighter, and then reach down to pick her up under her hips and roll her over me and onto the bed. She squeals and giggles, finding herself flat on her back with me looming over her, smiling and stroking her flushed torso, smearing the pool of mixed drool, sweat, and pre-cum that had gathered there all over her tits. God I'd love to fuck these gorgeous tits. Soon. 

"Look at all that dirty mess, babygirl..." I murmur, and her giggles die with a soft gasp, while a deep blush floods her cheeks. My eyes fly up to meet hers and I catch her embarrassment - her humiliation, even - before she can conceal it. Fuck. She told me she didn't do humiliation. Back paddle, now. I let my fingers play in the wet slickness, spreading it further down her soft belly. 

"I love you messy and dirty like that, babygirl. Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?" 

She bites her lip and shakes her head slightly. Holding her gaze I glide my hand lower. When it reaches her abdomen and keeps edging lower she hesitates for a moment, and I raise an eyebrow at her, waiting. She swallows hard, and then with a breathy sigh she spreads her legs wide, obeying my unspoken command. So perfect. I let my fingers glide over her folds lightly before sinking easily between them. Her pussy yields sweetly to my touch, coating my fingers with fresh, hot cream. 

So my babygirl likes giving head, does she? 

"Mmmm... look what I found, baby... I think you made an even bigger mess down here..." I make sure she can see and hear the teasing smile on my face. She blushes bright red, but smiles back at me. Good, I think I can push a little more then. I stroke up and down her slit, partly to keep her hot and bothered, partly because it just feels so damn good. "Tell me what turned you on just now, babygirl. I wanna know which buttons I can push..." I say, just as I start circling the tip of my middle finger lightly around her clit, and she arches her back way up, panting. 

"Ohmygod! That's the one! Right there!" 

I burst out laughing, and give her pussy a playful swat. "C'mon, babygirl, that's not what I meant and you know it! Now spill. Remember it's in your best interest to let me know exactly what makes you horny..." I bring my hand back to her skin, but not where she really wants it - stroking instead up and down the crease where thigh meets pussy. I can see her inner debate plainly written on her face - she knows I'll only touch her clit if she answers my question, but she's having a hard time saying the words out loud. 

I decide to give her a bit more incentive, and slide my fingers down to her entrance, circling the rim, tantalizing but not quite delivering. "So what was it, exactly, that got you creaming yourself so prettily for me, baby? Having my dick in your mouth? Me tugging at your hair? Tell me." 

She opens her mouth to start talking, but halts, apparently still struggling. I move my finger a tiny bit higher, inching towards her clit, but not quite there, and rub that sensitive spot just under her urethra in small circles. She gasps and starts panting more quickly. "C'mon, babygirl... talk to me... or I may decide to switch to other types of incentives... maybe you'd like those better?" 

Her eyes widen at the idea, and it looks as if she just may take me up on it, but then she shakes her head, swallows hard, and finally admits softly: 

"It - it was the way you told me to get down on my knees... the tone of your voice when you said it... it was like you flipped a switch in my head. Everything you did after that - telling me exactly how to kneel, how to suck you, being a little rough with me... it all resonated once I was already in that zone in my mind." 

She bites her lip, as if shocked by her own admission, and waits with baited breath for my response. I smile widely, simultaneously bending to kiss her lips lightly, and moving my fingertips up to gently rub her clit. 

"Good girl! I'm so proud of you for telling me, babygirl." I murmur into her ear, watching her writhe under my touch. "So, hearing my 'dom voice', my first command, had put you in 'sub zone', and then my telling you what to do and manhandling you, that's what got you all hot and bothered?" 

She arches her pelvis up into my fingers. "Yes! Yes! Yessss!!" 

I move my fingers away. "Is that 'yes' to my question or 'yes' to my touch?" 

She whines in frustration and balls her fists, but she keeps her position - legs spread, arms above her head - and looks me pleadingly. "Please, it's 'yes' to both. Please, please, please don't stop touching me, pleeaasse!" 

I glide my fingers lightly along her outer labia a few times just to watch her squirm, but finally go back to focus on her protruding clitoris. Its hood had peeled back to expose the hard, swollen pearl, and I capture it between two fingers and start rubbing side-to-side in short, quick strokes. 

"Oh yesss, rightthere rightthere rightthere please don't stop rightthere...!" 

My other palm comes down to press on her lower belly, feeling her abs clenching repeatedly under my fingers as she strains up, up, up... - 

Her breath hitches and holds for so long her face actually becomes red before she blows it out in a rush of "ohmygod yesss! yyhhhhhesss... ohhhhhh... gaawwwd fffhhhuck yhhessss...", heaving and bucking under my fingers for long, glorious moments. I watch her orgasm, fascinated, and keep stroking her for as long as her body seeks my touch. She's so fucking beautiful when she cums. 

Finally the tension in her body relaxes and she flops down to the mattress below, her breaths coming out in soft puffs and a smile curving her lips upwards. 

I gentle my touch as her peak passes, and then finally withdraw from her pussy altogether when her pelvis jerks away from my fingers, indicating her sensitivity, moving instead to stroke gently along her torso to help her calm down. She breathes in and sighs deeply, a contented smile on her sweaty face. I grin down at her. 

"You're freakin' breathtaking when you cum for me, babygirl." Her smile turns shy, the flush on her cheeks deepening. God. So sweet. I give her another quick kiss before sitting up. "Now I'm ready to face the day - and your family. Time to get up, young lady!" 

Sandra giggles breathily, answers with a cheerful "yes, sir!" and rolls over to sit next to me, bumping my shoulder in camaraderie. "C'mon, big guy. Let's start with a shower." 

* 

* 

* 

We ring the bell at Sandra's parents' home at exactly 12 noon. I am usually punctual - no doubt the result of my strict upbringing, cemented by years of police service - and today the need to be on time feels almost overwhelming; I don't want to screw up before I even meet them. 

Mrs. Matsakis opens the door on the second ring. Her lovely face - an older, plumper version of Sandra's - break into a wide smile when she sees us, and she opens her arms in welcome for her daughter even as her eyes move to check me out from top to bottom, coming back to meet mine over Sandra's shoulder while the two hug tight. To my relief, all I see is open curiosity - and maybe a hint of hope? - in her light blue gaze. 

Both women turn to me when they finally break their hug. "Mom, I'd like you to meet my friend, Dan Moreno. Dan, this is my mother, Maria." 

My friend. I realize we didn't discuss how she's going to introduce me, and while I can appreciate her wanting to keep it simple with her family, the title doesn't quite sit well with me. But I guess we'll clarify that one later. 

I step forward, hand extended. "It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Matsakis. Thank you for having me as your guest today." 

Sandra's mom slaps my hand away and instead pulls me in for an affectionate hug, followed by a kiss on each cheek. "Oh, please call me Maria! I'm very happy to meet you, my dear. Any friend of Sandra's is always welcome in my home. Now come in! Everyone is out back already. We decided to enjoy this time outside before it gets unbearably hot. Come after me." 

* 

Sandra's father, Theo, is tall and lanky, hunched over a beautifully carved dark-wood walking cane, but his stride is purposeful and his grip is strong when we shake hands. His still-thick hair is a shock of silver waves with a full mustache to match, and his tan face is etched with deep wrinkles, attesting his many years under the harsh Mediterranean sun. He doesn't speak much, only nods and says 'welcome, Dan' upon our introductions, and then nods over, indicating we should go meet the others. 

I throw a questioning look at Sandra. "It's okay", she mouths quietly. Walking out onto the back lawn we are instantly surrounded by a swarm of kids in various ages, all of them jumping up and down trying to grab Sandra's attention. 

"Auntie Sandra, Auntie Sandra, look at me!" 

"Auntie Sandra, check this out!" 

"Auntie, who's that man?" 

Sandra laughs as she bends down to kiss and hug each one in turn, picking the smallest of them up for a longer cuddle before setting the little girl down on her chubby feet. 

"Hello, kiddies. This is my friend Dan. Dan, these are Stefan, Andreas and Ariana - my brother Lucas' kids." 

"Hi there fellas. Nice to meet you guys" I say lightly, and step forward to shake their hands. The kids exchange looks, apparently trying to figure out what to make of me, but eventually they reciprocate, each one in turn, looking kind of pleased for being treated like grown-ups. 

By the time I stand back up the kids' parents - Lucas and his wife, Chloe, have stepped closer, and so have Sandra's younger sister, Helena, and her husband, Giannis, holding a sleeping baby in his arms. Introductions are made all around, and by the time they're over I feel a bit dizzy trying to keep track of everyone's names and faces. 

Sandra senses my unease and steps closer, grabbing my arm and pulling me over towards a shaded corner, where cold drinks and beers are stacked on a small table. 'C'mon, Dan. I'll quiz you on them all later. Now, can I get you a beer?" 

* 

I volunteer to mind the barbecue as soon as they get it going, which thankfully gives me a little break from all the small talk. I really am horribly rusty with this whole social niceties business, I think, and resolve to take this afternoon as an opportunity to improve myself. But for the time being I am left to observe Sandra and her family as they all pitch in to set up the long table on the wide back porch under a pale, striped fold-out awning. 

They are all so comfortable with each other. As the only child of a small, aristocratic family, it's strangely painful to watch. 

Sandra and her siblings ands all laugh and tease each other as they work, following her mom's orders from the kitchen. The kids keep out of the way playing catch in the grass, while Theo sits in one of the lawn recliners, bouncing his now-awake youngest granddaughter on his lap, cooing and tickling her, making her squeal and giggle in delight. 

I suck in a shaky breath, feeling an ache spreading around my not-yet-fully healed left ribs, followed by an acute sense of jealousy over the loss of my own family, that had never really been. Annoyed at myself I mumble a curse under my breath. Enough of that, Dan. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08



With my attention firmly focused on the skewered meats roasting on the grill, I almost jump out of my skin when a heavy hand slaps my right shoulder, followed by Lucas's level stare and deceptively conversational voice: 

"So, Dan, tell me about yourself." 

Ah. I smile despite myself. The protective older brother is here to get some answers. For a moment I consider telling him the whole ugly truth, which would undoubtedly get me thrown out onto the street. But it was so important for Sandra to bring me here, even if I don't understand why; I can't chicken out on her. So I settle on the small part of the truth that will hopefully be acceptable. 

"I'm a handyman. In the process of opening my own small business, in fact. How about you?" 

Lucas smirks knowingly at me, his thick, dark-blond eyebrows shooting up. "Uh-uh, not so fast there. I have just a few more questions to ask you before we can turn the tables around." 

I half-smile, half-grimace, and nod my consent. I like his bluntness, even if I am at the receiving end of it. Lucas relaxes his stance at my clear acceptance of his brotherly right to interrogate me, and reaches out to turn some of the skewers around to get the meat cooked evenly from all sides. 

"So, what kind of work do you do?" 

"Small repairs, mainly. All those odd-jobs that are too small for an actual contractor to take on, but require the use of work tools and some expertise to get it done right." 

Lucas throws me a doubtful look. "Is there actually enough work doing that to make a living?" In other words, 'could you support my sister'. 

I feel my spine harden as I stand a little taller, unconsciously rising to his challenge, before catching myself and taking a moment to relax my stance. "Yes, there is. Or at least, so does my research suggest. I've only just started, and haven't done any kind of marketing yet, but I think I can make it into a viable business." 

"So, you haven't been doing this for long?" 

Fuck. This is going to be tricky. I gulp. "No. I haven't - this is quite a recent development, but one I am very excited about." 

"Whussup, guys?" Sandra's voice startles both of us. We look at each other; me a little guilty, Lucas clearly annoyed at being interrupted before he got all his answers. Taking a deep breath, I decide to give him more - as much as I dare to give.  

"I was just telling Lucas about my new business." I try for lightness, while silently pleading Sandra not to freak out. "Anyways, as I was saying -" I turn back to meet Lucas's narrowed gaze "- this venture is very new. I was actually a cop until a few weeks ago." Surprise flares in his gaze, and his shoulders relax a bit more. Don't get your hopes high, buddy. "Well, technically I still am a policeman - on medical leave - but I don't expect to be reinstated, which is why I have started working on this new idea." 

To hide my unease, I break away from Lucas's level stare to rotate the meats on the grill once more. 

"I see." He sounds suspicious. As he should be. I look up to meet Sandra's eyes, her eyebrows raised in silent question, but then she turns to her brother. 

"Yes, Dan took a hard fall that landed him with a bad concussion and some serious bruising. He ended up in my ward; that's actually how we met. It's still unclear when he's going to be fit for service again, if ever, so it's good that he's got this alternate plan to pursue." 

"Ah." 

Still clearly skeptical, but probably reluctant to challenge Sandra right then and there, Lucas falls quiet next to me. 

"Hey Lucas, how's the meat looking? Everything else is pretty much ready!" Helena's voice, raised to an almost-shout to carry over the grass above the kids' squeals, breaks the uneasy silence between us. 

"Pretty much done, actually. Ready to serve." Lucas calls back, and starts heaping the heavily-laden skewers on top of a waiting tray. 

"Let me do it, Lucas." Sandra says, already taking over the task. "You go help your kids wash up and get seated." 

"Thanks, sis." he says, and leaves with only a quick nod in my direction. 

I heave another breath, exhale slowly, and then turn to look at Sandra. "I hate this, baby. I hate lying to your family." 

"You never lied, Dan. Everything you said - everything I said - was true." 

"It's a lie by omission, and we both know it." 

She shakes her head, her lips pursed determinedly, and then her face softens when she cups my bruised cheek in her hand. 

"Please, Dan." 

"Fuck." 

I don't mean the word to come out loud, but for some reason it makes Sandra smile, a crooked, knowing little grin that makes my own lips twitch, too. Shaking my head ruefully I cover her hand with mine, holding it in place as I turn to kiss it's soft palm before tugging it down, keeping our fingers laced. 

"Okay. We'll play it your way, baby." For now. 

"Thank you." She squeezes my fingers, and then lets them go to take the heavy tray in both hands. "Shall we?" 

* 

Lunch is a laid-back, friendly experience. Even Lucas seems to relax; or maybe he just gave up on continuing our conversation, seeing as we are seated at opposite ends of the long table. I find myself actually having a good time listening to the quick banter and lively conversation around the table, without having to really join in. Apparently I still remember the art of nodding and laughing at the right places, and in truth I feel more at ease in the company of Sandra's family than I had in years. 

We say our goodbyes shortly after desserts, and make our way in Sandra's car to my apartment, where we plan to hang out together until later in the evening, when Sandra needs to leave for her night shift. The ride goes by in comfortable silence, both of us quiet with our own thoughts, until finally I turn around to face her. 

"So, I really liked your family. You all seem so close." 

She throws me a quick smile while keeping her eyes on the road. "Thanks. We are. And I think they liked you, too." 

I shrug. "Not so sure about Lucas." 

"Oh, he's just being Big Brother. Don't mind him, please." 

"Sandra..." 

"Dan, please..." 

I purse my lips tight, swallow my urge to push back, and instead try a different approach. 

"Okay... So, tell me this: why was it so important to you that I come today?" 

Sandra slows to a stop before my building, parks, and turns to face me fully. 

"Well, I wanted to see you in a... normal situation, I guess. Somewhere outside the hospital or our apartments. I wanted to see you interact with other people, and I wanted to hear their perspective on you - the 'normal' you." 

I chuckle, though it is painfully strained. "Ouch. That bad, am I?" 

She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least, and she reaches out to take my hand. I squeeze hers in return. 

"I like you a whole lot, Dan. But you've got to admit our situation is... unique. I love spending time alone together with you, but to allow myself to be really invested here I need to know there's at least the potential of... more." 

My heart rate picks up at her words, and I fight to quell the crazy sense of hope that flares in my chest. Hold your horses, cowboy. You need to get your shit together before you start fantasizing about any 'more' with Sandra. 

I gulp hard, then ask carefully: "So, what's the verdict?" 

"Watcha think?" she shoots right back, her chin sticking out and her eyebrows raised in challenge, grinning. Her quick sass alleviates my self-doubts and makes my palm tingle all at once, and suddenly I feel a whole lot better. This, I know how to do. 

Leaning back, I keep my response light, but I make damn sure she gets the message. 

"What I think, young lady, is that you seem all too smug, having me at your mercy like that. I think I'd have to take measures to correct that attitude." 

Sandra gasps loudly and bites her lower lip, even as a sexy half-grin curls her mouth. 

"That sounds lovely, sir." 

God. Just to hear that promise in her voice makes my dick swell. Shaking my head I lean over to take her head in both my hands and kiss her thoroughly, the pleasure of her soft lips and wet tongue against mine sweeping us both, leaving us panting when we finally draw apart. 

"Upstairs, baby. Now." 

I turn and swiftly get out of her car, but before I can swing around to open her door she's already there at my side, smiling eagerly. I narrow my eyes in mock annoyance, grab her hand, and lead the way to my apartment. 

* 

* 

* 

Nothing beats a good spanking. 

Sitting up at the head of my bed, my back supported by a solid pillow, with Sandra squirming across my lap and wiggling her bright-pink ass cheeks just inches from my face, is everything I've dreamt it to be. I feel this urge to pinch myself, just to make sure it's real. 

Instead, I pinch Sandra. Sliding my fingers in between her glowing cheeks and into the creamy folds below them, I tweak her clit firmly. She squeals and bucks, throwing her head back, but her hands never leave their grip on the edge of the mattress, where I had instructed her to hold on and not let go. 

"Hmmm... good girl." 

She squirms even harder, trying to rub her pussy against my fingers, which keep caressing lightly along her labia. My dick is so hard inside my boxers that I feel my heart beating in its veins, but I'm not anywhere done playing. I press my forearm across her lower back and grind up into her soft belly to relieve some of that unbearable tension, while my right hand moves away, only to return with several more loud spanks to her blushing buttocks. 

This time, instead of jerking and twitching, she melts. Her muscles relax and she sinks down with a deep moan, opening her thighs wide in breathtaking surrender. 

"Fuck, baby, that's beautiful..." 

The next few minutes are pure bliss - alternating between spanking her glorious ass and stroking her sweet, swollen, soaked pussy, watching her body respond to me while she lets her mind float, high on sensation. 

Seeing and feeling her so utterly submissive, so completely trusting under my hands, opens a well of emotions that had been bottled up inside for so long I almost forgot I ever had them. I feel humbled and worthy, omnipotent and utterly at her mercy, all at the same time. I feel my gut clench so tight it's suddenly hard to draw a breath. God, but I love this woman. 

I love this woman. 

The realization slams into me like an asteroid impact, coming out of no-where and hitting with force strong enough to forever change life as I know it. I freeze, momentarily unable to move a muscle while my mind goes into overdrive, re-running this new knowledge over and over, trying to get a grasp on it: I love her. I love her. I love her. 

A soft moan - "please... please..." - snaps me back to the incredible reality of Sandra, submissively spread across my lap, begging me for... what? Focus, Dan. I breathe deeply, slow, controlled breaths, harnessing my wayward emotions. I'll have time to indulge in them later; right now I have Sandra, naked and dripping wet, begging in my arms. I lean down to kiss her smooth shoulder, her tender neck, keep moving my fingers lightly along her slit as I speak quietly in her ear. 

"You wanna cum baby?" 

"Yes, please... please...!" 

I glide my fingers back down her slit, all the way down to her hard little clitoris, and immediately start rubbing it quickly, mimicking her moves from last night when I told her to masturbate for me. She pushes her ass back and up, pressing herself fully into my palm, causing loud wet noises to rise from between her widely spread thighs. 

I press my left forearm harder across her lower back to keep her right where I want her, shifting my left hand from her hip to grab her right ass cheek. My fingers sink deep into the sensitive, just-spanked flesh, opening her crack wider to allow my hungry eyes full, undisturbed view of her dark-red, gleaming folds clinging to my fingers, while both her holes squeeze onto themselves in rhythmic pulses. Fuck. So beautiful. 

Her breath catches and her abs tighten, pressing hard against my painful erection, and I know she's right there on the edge. I keep rubbing fast - I can't deny her anything in the world in this moment - and within seconds she starts cumming, screaming her orgasm in total abandon, her pussy flooding with a gush of hot, fresh juice, dripping down to soak my way-too-tight boxers. 

"Arrggghhh... fuck, baby, that's right... cum for me, baby. God that's beautiful..." 

I keep rubbing as long as she keeps straining against my fingers, which seems to extend the plateau of her climax into a series of delightful little peaks. God, I love making her cum. I feel like a freakin' superhero. When her orgasm finally recedes Sandra slumps down, spent and panting heavily across my lap, while occasional shudders of residual pleasure ripple down her sweaty back. I half-push her over to slide my legs out from under her, then let her roll back to her stomach. 

"Stay right there baby." 

She mumbles incoherently in response while I get rid of my boxers and return to her, crawling between her spread thighs until I am fully above her, and then press down. My whole torso is flat against her back, my belly spoons her warm ass, and the length of my dick is snuggled along her wet slit. It feels so insanely good; I groan deep. Sandra tilts her pelvis back which causes the head of my cock to glide over her too-sensitive clit. She yelps and shudders, moving a half-inch away, but when she hears my growled approval she does it again, and again. I almost explode right then. 

I suck in a breath and shift back, breaking the direct contact. "Fuck, baby, stop. Don't move..." 

Kneeling behind her, my knees pushing her thighs further apart, I spread her ass with my left hand, and align my dick to her opening with my right. I sink in slowly. Her slick, tight walls wrap hot and wet around me, and pleasure shoots up my shaft and back into my balls, that tighten and tingle in response. 

I start moving slowly but within a few strokes, I lose all control. She just feels so fucking amazing, there's no holding back anymore. I grab tight hold of her hips and let my body take over, let my spiraling need dictate my movements as I fuck her as hard and fast as I can. 

She's still holding onto the edge of the mattress, and she keeps her hips tilted back, allowing me to go as deep as I want, but other than that she seems too spent to really fuck me back. I love it; love knowing I did that to her, made her cum so hard that now she can do nothing but submit. 

That thought, combined with the incredible feel of Sandra's hot, wet body milking my cock tips the scales and I feel my climax start deep in my balls, boiling and running up my shaft... 

In that same moment I realize the other reason fucking Sandra like this feels quite so amazing. 

I'm not wearing a condom. 

"Fuck!!" 

I pull out just as the first jets of cum shoot out of my angry-red, excruciatingly swollen head. The first string of milky jizz covers her slit, pooling at her entrance and dripping down to the bed below, the rest splutters across her ass and lower back. The view in front of me - Sandra's pink, just-spanked ass and red, just-fucked pussy, decorated with my fresh white cum - is obscenely sexy; I'm sure I'd be fantasizing about it for years to come. I also hope it means I'd just avoided a major fuck-up. 

"Hmmm... that feels so good..." 

Sandra's soft, mumbled voice comes from somewhere between her outstretched arms, accompanied by slow twerking of her cum-covered ass. I groan and shift back on my knees to the edge of the bed, then stand and walk over to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, all the while screaming at myself inside my head. 

IDIOT! 

I make sure the cloth is soft and warm and my movements gentle as I clean the worst of the mess off of Sandra's still-tender bits. When I'm done I gather her close in my arms, pulling the sheet up to cover us both. She snuggles close, tucking herself under my arm with her cheek on my chest, and relaxes against my side. 

My own heart rate is yet to return to normal, though I suspect that has more to do with my lingering, self-directed anger than with my recent climax. 

Fuck. We need to talk. I should apologize. The condoms were right there in the nightstand; I just totally forgot them in the heat of the moment. I think I pulled out in time but I can't be sure... And I wanna check in with her after that spanking, too - I know she enjoyed it but still it was our first real spanking session so I wanna talk about that experience for her... God, Dan. Listen to you. What about the little fact that you love her? Isn't THAT something you should talk about, too?! 

I feel cold sweat break on my forehead and top lip, and another kick in my chest as my pulse picks up even more. 

Fuck, not now. 

But of course, panic attacks can't be wished away, and I am pretty certain that's where I'm heading. 

Breathe, Dan. Remember the exercises Dr. Pappas gave you. Let's do them now. 

Resolutely I turn my attention to my body, starting down at my toes, clenching and un-clenching each group of muscles in turn, focusing on the relaxation that follows the hard tightening. Feet. Calves. Thighs. Tighten every muscle as hard as you can... count to ten... then relax. Gluts. Abs. Chest. Tighten... count... then relax. Hands and arms. Tighten... count... relax. Jaw. Face. Scrunch up as tight as you can... hold it... and relax. 

Phew. Okay. Back in the driver's seat. 

Breathing evenly now I look down at Sandra's blond head resting on my chest, somewhat puzzled that she hadn't commented on the strange exercise I'd decided to do right then. Her soft, puffy breathes that tickle the hairs on my chest clue me in on the reason. 

She fell asleep. 

I half-chuckle, half-gasp. She breathes a bit more deeply, but doesn't really stir. Shaking my head - mostly at myself - I decide she's probably right. I let my mind latch onto the steady rhythm of her breaths, let my body soak up the warmth and softness at my side, and thankfully, soon enough I fall asleep, too. 

* 

A couple of hours later we're sitting side-by-side on my couch, coffees in front of us, when I finally broach the subject. Well, at least, the most immediate of them. 

"Sandra, I'm really sorry about earlier." 

She looks at me, startled. "About what?" 

"The condom, baby. Or lack thereof. I don't know how it slipped my mind." 

"Oh!" She looks honestly surprised, then gives me a rueful look. "Truth is, I thought you'd planned it like that... you know, pulling out to cum on me..." she shrugs and then blurts out - "It was so hot! Feeling your cum hit my skin, imagining how I looked from your angle... I felt so sexy!" Her cheeks flood bright-pink, but she meets my gaze head-on. Damn, I wanna kiss her. 

Focus, Dan. 

"It sure was hot, baby, but it wasn't planned. I'm really sorry. I think I pulled out in time, but just in case I didn't..." I gulp, and continue with quiet conviction. "Just in case I didn't, I want you to know I'd be there for you. I'll take care of you, baby. I promise." 

Sandra looks searchingly at me, and finally nods. "Okay." 

"I - 'okay'? That's it?" I'm not sure what I wanted to hear, but her 'okay' throws me. 

"Yes. Okay. Look, Dan..." she shrugs, as if trying to keep it light. "What I mean is, let's not start building scenarios here, okay? If my period's late, I'll let you know and we'll talk. For now, let's not worry about it. Please?" 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08



Easier said than done. I clear my throat. "Yeah, all right. Just - when is your period due?" 

Sandra does a quick calculation in her head before answering. "A little over a week, maybe 10 days or so, I think. I'm pretty regular but don't really track it all that precisely." She bites her lips and adds - "so I think it's safe. I mean, not 100% fool-proof... but pretty safe." 

I can see she's ready to drop the subject, and debate with myself whether or not I should raise the possibility of the morning after pill. But then, Sandra is a nurse; she must know the drug exists, and is likely to have access to it if she needed it. 

What if she chose to take it? 

Even though on a rational level I believe it's her choice, that I could never force her to carry an unwanted pregnancy, to raise an unwanted child, certainly not when it was clear from the start that we were going to use condoms, that a pregnancy was something neither one of us wanted... even so, some deep, wild, visceral part of me wants to roar and lash out at the mere idea of Sandra terminating that crazy chance before it even took root. 

But then, she didn't suggest the morning after pill herself. She said she thought it was safe, but she'll let me know if her period was late, and then 'we'll talk'. That doesn't sound like she's planning on doing anything without telling me... right? 

Trust and hope, Dan. 

Finally, I decide to let the subject drop. For now. 

"Okay." 

She smiles and reaches for her coffee. I do the same, and we drink in silence, both of us still deep in our own heads, slouched back on the worn cushions. Slowly, I feel myself unwinding, relaxing in the light afternoon breeze drifting through the open window of my living room. 

After a while I feel mostly calm and centered; enough so, I think, to tackle the next item on my mental agenda. I put my cup down and turn to face Sandra. She mimics my movements and looks up at me, acknowledging the change in mood between us. I keep looking at her thoughtfully, silently, and she sticks out her chin in clear challenge. 

"What?!" 

Gosh, I adore her guts. I smile, shaking my head at her attitude while catching that chin gently in between my thumb and finger, and dropping a light kiss on her lips. 

"Tell me how you liked your first spanking session, babygirl." 

Her face softens, her lips parting in a tiny gasp. "Oh, I loved it, sir." And then she adds cheekily - "although, you know, technically speaking, that wasn't quite my first spanking session. I did have a boyfriend or two spank me on occasion." 

It takes every effort to keep my fingers gentle around her chin while jealousy slices my guts at her words. She'd already told me about those previous boyfriends; but right now I hate the reminder. I purse my lips, exhale slowly... and then I catch the twinkle in her eye. The little minx! She did that on purpose! 

I shake my head, and tell her in a mildly chiding voice: "You know, baby, it really is poor taste to mention your previous bed-partners to your current lover." 

She bites her lip, but then meets my gaze head-on, looking more daring than remorseful. "Is that what you are to me, then? My lover?" 

I try reading her mind, but fail miserably. There's a challenge to her words for sure, and also the ring of hope. But there's something else there, which I cannot put my finger on. Pain, maybe? Inhaling deep, I release her chin to slide my palm along her jaw until it cradles her head. She leans slightly into my hand, and the small gesture warms my insides, giving me courage to answer her question. 

"Among other things, yes, I most certainly am your lover," I say, then add -"as well as your 'friend'. At least, that's what you told your family..." I let my unspoken question ring. 

She grins. "You're also my Dom. 'Exclusively', even, as we agreed. But I didn't think it was the appropriate timing for sharing that bit with my family." 

I chuckle. "Yeah, I think I'd like a chance to get on Lucas's good side first." 

Sandra's grin widens. "So, that would make you my "exclusive-dom-lover-friend", then. It rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?" 

Your exclusive-dom-lover-friend who loves you. I think, but manage to say instead, "Sounds really good to me, babygirl". 

She peeks at me from under lowered lashes, and asks haltingly - "Would it... would it be alright if I used 'boyfriend' for short?" 

I laugh. "Sure, baby. I'd admit being called 'boy'-anything is a bit strange at my age... but I'd take it. Gladly. Especially if it means I can publically claim you as my girlfriend, too." 

"Absolutely. Thank you." Sandra mumbles close to my lips, before giving me a sweet kiss, which I'm all too happy to take over, coaxing her lips further apart and inviting her tongue to play with mine. At her gasp, though, I draw back. 

"So, let me rephrase my question, girlfriend... How did you like our first spanking session?" 

Her smile turns wicked. "Mmm... I liked it very, very, very much, sir." Then a tiny frown appears on her brow. "In fact, I think all of your neighbors heard exactly how much I liked it... maybe you should gag me next time?" 

My initial satisfaction at her words is chased away by her mention of 'gag'. Immediate flashbacks of the last time I gagged and spanked a woman - Naomi - flare up in my mind, dizzying in their intensity. I shake my head, trying to keep them at bay, to focus on the here and now, on Sandra on the couch next to me. 

"No. No gag. That's definitely a hard limit for me." I manage. Barely. 

Sandra's mouth drops open, but then she shuts it and nods instead. "Okay, no gag." She gives me a tentative smile, which I return, sort of. Then she adds - "maybe..." and stops abruptly. 

"Maybe... what?" 

"It's just that I get so loud... I couldn't really help myself, but now I'm embarrassed thinking about the possibility of meeting your neighbors on the stairs. It's kind of... humiliating." 

"Baby, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I loved hearing you." 

She half-smiles and shrugs. "I know, but still... It makes me uncomfortable thinking all these strangers may be... I dunno. Judging me now. Talking to each other about 'that loud slut who couldn't stop screaming'." She makes a reproachful face. 

"Hmm. I see." I want to shake her out of it, but know I cannot argue her feelings away. Damn. "So, you're saying we need to find a way to muffle your voice that isn't like a 'gag' that would freak me out." 

She nods. "Yes. Please." 

'Okay, I'll think about it." 

"Thank you, sir." The way she says it, softly and breathily and with total trust in me, is just like I imagine in my fantasies. I feel myself stir. 

"You're very welcome, babygirl. Now other than your concern about being overheard, was there anything else that bothered you during your spanking? Anything we need to adjust for next time?" 

She smiles wide. "Oh, you sure got me plenty hot and bothered with that spanking, sir!" 

I narrow my eyes at her. "Baby, with that attitude you'll get another one sooner than you expect." 

She giggles excitedly and I exhale, striving for patience. "Sandra, please. This is important. I'm just learning you, you're just learning me. Not everything will be perfect the first time we do it, and I need to know about it to be able to fix it. Maybe the room was too hot for you. Maybe your back hurt in that position... I can't know these things unless you tell me." 

"Argh... Sorry." She mumbles, lowering her eyes. "I didn't mean to be blasé about it. But honestly, it was..." Her eyes meet mine again. "It was perfect. I loved it." And then she adds softly: "Thank you for spanking me, sir.' 

I feel my dick swell. God. "The pleasure was entirely mine, baby. Now, I suggest you go take a shower while I start on dinner. You need to eat something before you leave for your shift." 

She leans in and kisses me slow and deep, reminding me just how passionate she can be under that practical nurse persona of hers. When she finally withdraws and goes to do as I bid her I am fully hard, and need to adjust myself while watching her beautiful behind swing softly side-to-side until she disappears behind the bathroom door. 

Man. I really do love her. 

* 

* 

* 

"So, Dan, shall we get started?" 

To her credit, Annie manages to keep any animosity she must still be harboring against me out of her voice. It is Tuesday evening, and Jon has taken over their kids' bedtime routine - baths, stories and a lengthy cuddle before tucking them in - so that Annie can help me set up 'online presence', as she calls it, for my new business. 

Before the divorce, I used to be here often. Jon and Annie would invite Naomi and me to join them for dinner, usually on Fridays, and then we'd hang out - catch a movie on TV, or just chat and enjoy the company. But then after Naomi and I split, the invites became fewer and farther in-between, and even when they were extended I declined more often than not. Eventually they pretty much gave up on me. 

Jon and I still spent time together outside of work, but it was usually away from the Leonidas's residence - playing street basketball with our friends, or going out for the occasional beer. But even those outings weren't nearly as common as they used to be, and in the last few months I'd seen him almost exclusively at our shifts. 

And then, Jon shocked me when he brought up the subject of D/s relationships, told me that he'd just learned about Naomi and me, and that he and Annie were curious about it, too. When he asked me to come over for an evening of Q&A, I was hugely flattered. Seeing myself as the experienced Dom, helping a couple of newbies into this world, was a much-needed boost to my otherwise quickly-declining self-esteem. 

But that evening ended in disaster when Annie mentioned 'Naomi's new Dom', and I'd gone crazy. It wasn't all that long ago - barely a month had passed - but it feels almost like a different lifetime. 

"Dan? You with me?" 

Annie looks searchingly at me, and I'm surprised to find real concern in her eyes. I was certain Jon had to twist her arm into offering her assistance, but now... I'm not so sure anymore. 

"Why are you doing this, Annie? Why would you help me out?" 

Annie purses her lips and looks down at her hands, fidgeting, clearly uncomfortable with my question, possibly debating internally whether or not to answer it. Finally she looks back at me and admits quietly: 

"Because Naomi asked me to." 

Her answer floors me. "What?! I mean, w-why?" 

Annie shrugs, but her annoyance peeks behind the nonchalant gesture. "She didn't say so in so many words, but I suspect she somehow feels guilty. Or at least, somewhat responsible for you. So she wants to know you're not going to end up jobless and homeless, living on welfare." 

I gulp hard. "Does that mean you told her about - " 

"We talk every day, Dan. She knows everything. Well, everything that I know, at least. She knows about your suicide attempt, about Jon's beating you up, about your likely being discharged from the Force." Annie's straight gaze holds mine, unflinching, but then she breaks it when she shakes her head, as if frustrated with her friend. "Unfortunately, my saying 'forget about it' and 'it's not your problem' doesn't seem to work. On some level, I think she believes you deserve every misery. On another..." 

Annie looks at me. "She told me that while she hates you for what you did, she can't just write off ten happy years of her life." Then to my surprise Annie smiles and adds - "I told her she should try harder. She laughed, and told me to just do this for her." Annie gestures at the laptop sitting open atop the desk in front of us. "So, here we are." 

I nod mutely. Yeah. Here we are. 

It feels strange - wrong - having Naomi worry about me. Even if I hadn't attacked her, it wouldn't feel right. I struggle with it in my mind while unease churns in the pit of my stomach, when I finally get it: I had failed her so completely that somehow, somewhere in our no-longer-a-relationship, the roles had reversed. Now she feels like it's somehow her responsibility to protect me, to care for me, to make sure that I was okay. 

Pathetic loser. 

I want to smash something. My head, preferably, against the hard brick wall. But I sit still, breathe deep, and get a grip. 

Face it, Dan. Face the consequences. You will never, ever, be the Dom in Naomi's mind again. Whenever she thinks of you, she'd think of this broken man who needs fixing. You hate this, right? Good. Live with it. Learn from it. And make damn sure you don't repeat these mistakes with Sandra. 

I rub my palms over my face, inhale sharply, then slowly release the air out of my lungs, putting my hands back down on my knees. 

"Okay." 

Annie looks at me, her head tilted to one side, appraising me silently. I grin tentatively at her. "Let's make some good news to report back to Naomi. I think we both agree she should worry about her own life rather than about her whacko ex making a living, right?" 

Annie nods, hesitates, and then leans in to give me a quick hug and a kiss on my cheek, which she then wipes gently off with her thumb, to erase the small traces of pale lip-gloss from my blushing skin. 

"Let's do this, then." She turns to the screen, but then swings back to look at me, her green eyes suspiciously moist. "It's good to have you back, you know." 

I swallow the lump in my throat and cough before I can answer. "Yeah. I... Thank you. For everything." 

She smiles, and thankfully turns back to the screen, sitting up straight as she shifts her attention to the task at hand, giving me another moment to compose myself before I, too, focus on the work we're here to do together. 

It's really good to be back. 

* 

* 

* 

By the end of the week I have my business page up online. It waited a few days until I got clearance from my bosses at the Force, seeing as I was still, technically, a paid cop. But as soon as I got the green light Annie pressed the magic button and - ta-dah! - it went live, along with a small advertising campaign that put my listing next to Google's results for people searching for a handyman in town. 

A couple of days after the official launch of my website I get my first phone call from a potential customer, and by the end of that second week I have already done three paid gigs, and have a handful more scheduled for the following few days. 

I also keep my twice-a-week volunteer work at the women's shelter. A part of me feels like a fraud, imagining how they'd be cowering away had they known that I was, in fact, one of those abusive bastards they were all hiding from. But at the same time, I love going there. The younger kids all cheer in delight when I come in the door, shouting 'Dan the Handyman!' Dan's here!' and then congregating around me to look on with interest as I fix a broken door handle, hang a framed picture, or fix a rickety chair. Their older siblings hover in the background, keeping their cool, but already a couple had approached me and asked if they could help, and maybe learn how to do these things. The look of damn-near hero worship in their eyes is like balm to my soul. 

It feels good. I feel good. 

* 

Dr. Pappas seems satisfied with my progress, too. 

Seated across from him at his little clinic, I tell him about my conversation with Annie, and how much I hated being reduced to 'that mentally-unstable ex who may not be able to support himself' in Naomi's eyes. The older man nods in understanding. 

"Yes, I imagine that could feel quite emasculating." He comments lightly. 

I make a face at his harsh - and astute - observation. "Yes. Quite." 

"So, how are you handling it?" 

"You mean, the blow to my ego?" 

Dr. Pappas rests his lips on his tented fingers, considering me thoughtfully before answering. 

"Well, we both know it goes deeper than that, Dan." 

At my silence, the older man tilts his head, waiting. Truth is, I'm uneasy - heck, I'm scared - to follow this line of thought. I keep my mouth firmly shut. Dr. Pappas raises an eyebrow, but even this open dare doesn't work. So he decides to spell it out for me. 

"Dan, remember that your mental breakup happened when you learned that Naomi had moved on to a new Dom. At that moment, a big chunk of your self-identity - the part you had been clinging to as your last hope for happiness - had basically been shot down. Your violent reaction was the result of what, in your mind, was perceived as real threat to your very existence. 'Who you were', the very core of your worth as a man, was being invalidated, and you felt like you had to do something - anything - to stop that from happening." 

He stops and looks at me pointedly over the rim of his half-moon spectacles. At my cautious, muted nod of agreement, he continues. 

"And now it seems not only that this hope of returning to be Naomi's Dom had died, but that even the memory of 'Dan, Naomi's Good Dom' had been destroyed. You no longer live in her mind as the man she once loved and respected. Instead, you're her mentally-unstable, jobless, loser ex. It's almost like a second death... Isn't it?" 

I look down at my hands, fingers laced tightly together, knuckles white - the only outward expression of the inner turmoil set forth by Dr. Pappas's blunt words. And yet, strangely, thankfully, I feel no rage. There's no anger boiling inside, just waiting to spill over, like there was before. 

Instead, there is grief. A deep sadness swells inside my chest, and settles as a hard lump in my throat, followed closely by the gut-wrenching acceptance of things that could never, ever be. 

The wave of emotion almost knocks me over. I choke on my attempt to answer Dr. Pappas, and get into a fit of coughs. After a moment, I feel a hand at my shoulder, and then a paper cup filled with cold water is offered. I take the cup, drink shakily, and place it back on the table, clearing my throat. 

"Better?" 

I nod. 

"Talk to me, then." 

Resolutely, I nod and look up at him, and finally manage to answer. "I guess... yes. It does feel like... that part of me just died again. And that just makes me... sad. I mean, I know it's done and buried and there's not a damn thing I can do to change it. I just... I wish I could erase the last couple of years from her memory. I wish she'd just remember the good times, the good husband, the good Dom that I'd been to her before." I take another shaky sip from the water. "It's not about wanting to get back with her. We've both moved on. But still..." 

My voice trails off. Dr. Pappas considers my words, that seem to still swirl and echo in the air between us, with an unhurried, deeply thoughtful expression, until finally he leans forward, looks me in the eye, and asks in that soft, calm, precise manner of his: 

"Why is it important that Naomi remembers how good you were before?" 

His question catches me unprepared. I slump back in my chair, my bottled-up breath leaving my chest in a whoosh of air, staring up at the ceiling. "Pffff... I think..." I inhale deeply, then sit up once more, and meet Dr. Pappas's intent, pale-blue gaze. "I think if I knew she remembered, then I'd know it really was for real, before. So I could hope to be that again, in the future." With Sandra. 

"Hmm." Dr. Pappas looks at me shrewdly, and then asks with a hint of challenge in his voice: "What if only you remembered? What if nobody else but you knew how good a man, a husband, a Dom, you once were? Would that mean it never happened?" 

"I -" 





Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08



I gasp as his words sink in, then shake my head slightly. The shrink half-grins at me, and pushes some more. "If a tree fell in the forest and there's nobody there to hear it fall, would it still make a sound?" 

Well, when put like that... "Absolutely, sir." 

His smile widens. "Yes, I think so, too." 

And then he sobers up and leans forward, his eyes holding mine so that I cannot look away. "Dan, I want you to remember this, because it's really important: you know you were a good man before. You know you are good now, today, with Sandra. You know how committed you are to continue being good, doing good, in the future. That knowledge exists inside of you, and it doesn't depend on anyone else. All right?" 

I do know that. Even if nobody else knew, I would know. 

"Yes sir. I'll remember that." 

He smiles again, and relaxes back in his seat. "Good. Then I'll see you next Tuesday." 

* 

* 

* 

Much later in the evening, at Sandra's place, we're snuggled together on her couch watching a movie. Or rather, she's watching it, some lightweight chick flick I have little to no interest in; As for me, I have eyes - and hands - only for Sandra.  

She's on her side with her back to me, her head pillowed on my folded left arm. She's wearing light, loose-fitting pajama bottoms and a soft, clingy cami shirt, while I'm in my boxers and T-shirt, and her warm curves press back into me through the thin layers of clothing separating us. I lean in to kiss and nuzzle the spot where her neck meets shoulder, breathing in her sweet scent. 

"Mmm..." she murmurs and tilts her face away, giving me more room to play. Yes! I smile against her skin, and go back to kissing, trailing from just behind her ear, down her neck, all the way to her shoulder, then just behind it, that place where her arm meets her back, where her softness begs for a small bite and a deeper taste. 

She giggles - aha! so that spot was ticklish! - and then she gasps when she feels my erection roll against her wiggling ass, and her hand shoots back to grab my hip as she presses into me fully. 

"Ah, that feels good baby..." I grunt and mimic her move, my hand taking firm hold of her hip bone as I grind slowly against her, though I keep my kisses light and teasing at the top of her spine. 

"Mmm..." she mumbles her agreement, and starts turning around. I stop her movement by tightening my grip on her side. 

"Nope. Stay right where you are baby... keep watching that movie. I'm just gonna amuse myself with you for a while..." 

She makes a half-protesting noise but relaxes in my arms, and I smile my satisfaction into her smooth hair, dropping a kiss onto her crown. 

"Good girl." 

She sighs and melts a little more against me. My hand slides down to find the hem of her cami and slips under it, caressing her soft belly, then moving up to find the generous swells of her breasts. We both moan at that first contact. I spend long, leisurely moments stroking, cupping and kneading them lightly, but keeping away from her hardened, straining nipples. Sandra whimpers and presses herself into my hand and I chuckle behind her ear. 

"Stop squiggling, baby. This has nothing to do with you. I'm just enjoying myself here." 

She moans a low protest but tries harder to keep still. I murmur my approval into her neck, while my hand moves down over her belly and into her pj-bottoms, pushing them down her hips to expose her baby-pink bikini panties. My fingers slip to trail just under elastic waist band, feeling her abs clench in response, then going up and over her hip, sliding deeper under the clingy material to grab a handful of her round, fleshy ass, and to squeeze it in affection. 

"Ahh... God I love your ass, babygirl. Feels so good in my hand." 

She circles her hips slowly in response, moaning quietly. I push her pj's further down as far as I can reach, half-way down her thighs. "Get them off, baby." I say, and she half-pushes, half-kicks them until they're at her ankles, then uses her feet to get rid of them altogether. I seize the opportunity to push my knee between hers, opening her thighs just enough to allow my hand easier access to her tender bits. 

"Keep watching the movie baby. I'm gonna quiz you about it later, and spank you for every answer you get wrong." 

It's an empty threat and we both know it - I have no freakin' idea what the movie is about - but Sandra giggles breathily and plays along, anyways. 

"Yessir!" She adds a mock salute, and I grab her wrist and pull her hand up until her fingers close around the edge of the armrest beyond our heads. "Hold it, baby." 

"Yes, sir." This time her voice sounds soft, compliant, and I know she's slipping into the right headspace. 

"Good girl." My own voice turns low and gruff. God. I'm just as susceptible, if not more, to the shifting dynamics between us. Focus, Dan. 

Stretched out like that, her cami bunched above her exposed breasts, her legs held open by my thigh in between her knees, Sandra's body becomes an open playground for my free hand to roam. While my mouth is limited to her neck and shoulder, it turns out to be just as well - apparently that spot just behind and a little under her ear is hot-wired to her pleasure center, because every time I touch it - kiss, lick, suck or bite - she jerks and shudders, and grinds her ass back against my dick. 

I chuckle, delighted at the unexpected find, and do it again. Man, I like this game! 

Her movements become a little more insistent. I smile wickedly behind her, and keep teasing her. My hand focuses on her thighs, sometimes lightly scratching her skin with the backs of my fingernails, sometimes kneading her muscles, sometimes drawing light circles with the tips of my fingers just along her crease - but never touching her panty-covered pussy. She gets a little frustrated and pushes her pelvis forward, clearly begging for me to touch it. I move my hand away, going back to play with her breasts. 

I do pay attention to her nipples this time around - I really can't keep away from them - but I keep my touch light, tracing around her areolas, rolling her hard tips gently between fingers and thumb, very lightly tugging on her sensitive buds, before going back to caressing the swollen undersides with my whole palm. 

"Ohhh, pleeeaaassseeee..." 

"Shhh... hush, babygirl. I'm playing. You're watching your movie. No interruptions." 

"Ffffuck..." The whispered expletive makes me smile behind her ear. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... keep quiet. I'll make you feel so good..." 

There's a slight shudder to her muscles, like she's struggling to hold herself still. The thought excites me even more. My hand glides over her smooth, rounded belly to cup her whole pussy in my palm over her panties. She pushes into me and this time I oblige, squeezing lightly, repeatedly. Sandra arches her back, her legs shifting restlessly, rubbing against mine. 

I start stroking up and down over the crotch of her undies, which now feels hot and damp under my fingers. But my touch is still way too light to deliver any real pleasure, certainly when not in direct contact with her skin. My goal is to tease, not to please - not yet - and by the look of it, it's working damn well. 

"Oh God, Dan, you're driving me nuts...!" 

"Mmm... that's the point, babygirl. Hush." 

Sandra whimpers. I smile so wide my cheeks hurt, thankful for my position behind her back that prevents her from seeing my expression. Man, this is a fun game! 

I move my hand back so that the tips of my fingers lie flat over her covered clit, press down just a little more until I feel that rigid bundle just on the other side of the soft cotton barrier, and start rubbing in small circles. Sandra arches up, pushing even harder into my hand, trying to get as close as possible as I drive her higher and higher towards the edge... 

Until I stop, moving my hand to grab her inner thigh just above her knee, forcing her legs to remain open as I watch her buck and convulse, trying to grind her pussy against something, anything, that would bring her relief, but finding none. 

"No, no, no, please, please, please...!" 

God, but I love that ring of true desperation when a woman is so close, so needy, but denied. 

I want to taste that need. 

Sandra is startled when I push myself up and off the couch, rolling her onto her back and then pulling her hips forward so that her ass is right there over the edge, and then opening her thighs wide. She lets me arrange her body to my liking, watching me under eyelids that are heavy with desire, mouth open to allow for her quick, panting breaths, but says nothing. 

I lean down... but at the last moment move my mouth an inch to the side, to nuzzle the tops of her inner thighs just along her panty line. Sandra makes a high, mewling sound. I grin evilly and go back to lick, kiss and suck the sensitive bare skin, so close to where she wants me... 

Her smell is thick and intoxicating, her damp panties now clinging to her flesh, revealing more than concealing her treasures. Unable to resist much longer I look up into her flushed face and lower my open mouth onto her covered labia, letting my tongue swipe along the damp cloth before my lips clamp down on it in a deep, hard kiss. Her back arches, her head thrown back, her moans muffled by one arm thrown over her mouth. 

Her panties slide against her creamy cunt and I can no longer resist my own need to taste her fully. I hook my left finger under the soaked crotch of her panties and pull them as far to the side as I can, baring her delicious, dark-pink pussy to my eyes, my mouth, my tongue. 

I take another deep sniff, and then, finally, bring my mouth to her pink, glistening folds. My tongue sinks into her incredible softness, her essence swamping my senses, salty and sweet and perfect. I lick and suck and lick some more, relishing every taste and texture, until another desperate mewl draws my attention to her face. 

"Please, please, please I need to cum so bad... please!" 

I grin up at her, wiping my face some against her inner thighs, then licking up the sticky juice before meeting her eyes again. "You sure, babygirl? I could do this all night, you know..." 

"Oh fuck yeah I'm sure! C'mon already!!" 

I chuckle, and click my tongue at her. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... you sound pissed off babygirl. You wanna try asking nicely?" 

She groans deep and long, clearly fighting her frustration, but then finally breathes in, relaxes back against the cushion, and gives me the most beautiful pleading look I'd ever seen in my entire life. 

"Please, sir..." her voice is as soft and submissive as I'd ever heard it. I almost cum in my boxers hearing it. "Please, please, please sir, please make me cum...!" 

I let the rush wash over me, enjoying every last millisecond of it, before answering her. 

"With pleasure, babygirl. Just get these nice and wet for me..." 

I give her my two fingers to suck on and she takes them deep into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them. "Mmm, that's perfect baby." I withdraw the saliva-slicked fingers from her pouting lips and bring them down to her pussy, then slowly push in. She yields to me and they sink all the way into her tightness, and I hear Sandra's low gasp. "Fuck, that feels so good!" 

"Enjoy it baby... you've been such a good girl for me tonight." 

Then I lower my lips to cover the whole top of her slit, sucking her clit fully into my mouth, and start pumping my fingers in and out. 

"Oh my gaaawwwddd! Aaarrrgggghhhh!!" 

Sandra's high-pitched scream is muffled by her own arm, which she seems to bite into to keep from waking up the neighbors while I suck on her clit and finger-fuck her hard and fast. Her whole body seems locked in spasm as she strains for the peak until finally she gets there, squeaks once more behind her arm, and cums hard, her pussy pulsating and gushing fresh juice with every involuntary clench of her pelvic muscles. 

I keep going until the storm recedes, and finally, when I feel her inner muscles relax some, I withdraw my fingers slowly, carefully, and move to cover her soaked slit, pressing gently. She moans and presses back, shudders, and slumps back to the couch, breathing hard. 

"Wow." She mumbles, and I burst out laughing. "Damn, babygirl, could I get that on record?" I manage, still chuckling. 

She doesn't answer, just lies there, still trying to catch her breath. 

I sit back on my haunches, letting her have her moment, even though my own need is throbbing in my dick, uncomfortable inside my tight boxers. I know I'll get my release soon enough; but seeing Sandra like this, completely undone from my lovemaking... it's almost as good. 

Finally she opens her eyes enough to peer at me, then raises herself onto her forearms. "How do you want me, sir?" 

In every way imaginable, now and forever, I want to say. Instead, I reach my hand out to her. "Up on your knees, baby. Right here on the couch. I've been fantasizing about fucking these gorgeous breasts of yours..." 

She inhales sharply - "yes, sir" - and takes my hand, letting me pull her up and keep her steady until she settles on her knees on the couch, her face level with my belly. She looks up into my eyes and brings her hands to my boxers, hooking her fingers under the elastic. At my nod she pulls them off slowly, bending low to push them down towards my knees, laughing when my dick catches in them and then springs up to slap her cheek with a loud smack. 

I shake my head mockingly, stifling my own laughter. "That's enough baby. Now let's get your shirt off. Hands up." 

Sandra raises her hands obediently, and I quickly get rid of the bunched-up cami. Her beautiful, heavy breasts jiggle and sway when she lowers her hands to her hair and pushes it back from her face; reaching down, I palm the outer swells, one in each hand, while my thumbs stroke the sensitive undersides, gliding up to circle her hard, protruding nipples. The different textures fascinate me, the skin of her breast so smooth and soft, yielding to my touch, while her nipples are crinkled and taut, their bumpy texture pressing back into my finger pads. 

Man, these breasts are perfect. They were made for fucking. 

"Open your mouth babygirl. I want as much spit as you can produce all over my cock for this. No sucking, just open wide and let me fuck real deep. I want you to gag a little - that would make you produce lots of spit - but then don't swallow, instead let it drool. All right?" 

She obeys, and I take her head in my hands, gritting my teeth as my cock splits her lips and glides down her tongue all the way in, then using short, staccato thrusts bumping right against the back of her mouth. Sure enough the wet, squelching noises coming from her throat tell me it's working, and then she pushes herself higher on her knees and tilts her head forward, and two streams of drool trickle from both corners of her mouth down my shaft, mixing with my precum, creating the perfect messy mix of slippery, natural lube. 

When my cock is completely covered I pull back. "Now hold your breasts in your hands and spit onto them." I tell Sandra, and she complies without hesitation, squeezing her tits together, the generous orbs spilling over her smaller hands. She bows her head and deliberately lets the excess saliva that had pooled in her mouth drool in a long, thick, clear string, right into her cleavage. 

When the string finally snaps, she raises her head to look back at me, a satisfied smirk on her lovely mouth. "Like that, sir?" 

"Mmm... just like that, babygirl. This is perfect. Now keep still." 

She pushes her tits up, offering herself to me. I take her upper arms in my hands to hold her in place and step forward, sliding my dick up and into the deep, soft, wet cleft between them. 

"Ahhh... this feels sooo good babygirl... now squeeze harder. I'm going to do all the work, you just squeeze those beautiful breasts around my dick and keep adding as much lube as you can, all right?" 

She nods and presses herself tight around me so that my dick is completely sandwiched inside her softness. Unable to resist for another second I start moving, my cock sliding up and down the slick, wet tunnel between her tightly-pressed breasts, the purple-red head peeking up in-between them before disappearing again. And again. And again. Sandra drops her head lower and sticks her tongue out to add little licks to my glans at the end of each strokes. Each hot, wet lick is hotwired to my pleasure center, pushing me higher and higher... 

It's all I can do to keep standing as my orgasm hits me, hard and swift. My balls tighten up, and in another moment I start cumming with a loud shout, erupting in warm, thick squirts that sputter onto Sandra's lips and tongue, cling to her chin, and pool right at the dip of her neck where her pulse flutters, quick and shallow. 

My hips keep moving, one hand losing its grip on her arm to tunnel in her blond hair, cradling her head and holding it in place while I keep fucking her breasts slowly, deliciously, soaking every last sweet sensation until finally, regretfully, I withdraw, and with a deep grunt move to sit heavily next to her on the couch, and flop back against the cushion, much like she did just moments before. 

"Wow", I mumble, and it's her turn to laugh. "Told you so..." she quips, and then settles on her back next to me, her head on my shoulder, her breathy giggles ebbing, softening into light, even breaths as she drifts off to sleep, cum pearls and all. 

God, I love this woman. 

* 

At some point in the evening we've relocated into the bedroom, after washing the necessary bits. The next morning, I wake up from a very sweet dream as the bed dips next to me when Sandra rejoins me under the covers. Cracking an eye open I see her looking back at me with a strange mix of hope and trepidation, though it is softened by the grey pre-dawn light. 

"What is it, baby?" I mumble, my voice still gruff with sleep. 

"Ehm... we need to talk about our limits. We need to make some changes." Her teeth worry her full lower lip, while my foggy brain tries to wake up enough to figure out what the hell is going on. 

"Sandra..." I flop to my back and rub my hands over my face a couple of times, then peer up at her. 

"Baby, is there any way we could postpone this talk an hour or two, or at the very least until we've had our morning coffee? It's not even 6am. On Saturday." 

The scales tip towards anxiety on her face at the clear ring of annoyance in my tone, and I feel like a jerk. If it's important enough to wake her up this early... Shit. I sigh and push myself up to sit with my back against the headboard. 

"Yes, we can talk. Come here." I open my arms so that she can scoot closer and snuggle to my side as I kiss the top of her head. Still feeling a bit out of sorts, I find myself stalling for time while waiting for my brain to kick into full gear. 

"What made you get up so early, anyways? Have you set your alarm by mistake?" 

I feel her shrug under my arm. "I had to pee." 

"Well... a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do." I shoot, trying to lighten the mood, and then grin apologetically at her. "Sorry. Have I mentioned I really need my coffee in the morning?" 

She nods, but doesn't smile back, instead looking down at her hands, which are busy removing invisible lint from her light comforter. 

Shit, she really is nervous. C'mon Dan, wake up! Focus. Your submissive - your new, inexperienced submissive - just came to you and said you needed to talk limits again. And she's obviously nervous about it. It's your job to guide her through this, remember? 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 08



"Okay. I'm awake now, and I'm listening." I take her chin gently between my fingers and turn her head to face me. "What's on your mind, baby?" 

She's still chewing hard on that poor lip of hers, until I tug it loose with my thumb. "C'mon, babygirl. Out with it. You said we may need to make some changes to our limits? What's going on?" 

She gulps hard, and buries her hands under the cover. I have a sneaking suspicion she'd just crossed her fingers and doesn't want me to see. Shit. That bad, huh? I wait, my own anxiety climbing quickly, and finally, when the silence stretches a little too long, I snap. 

Holding her eyes I speak quietly but with absolute command. "Enough stalling, babygirl. Talk. Now." 

Thankfully that does the trick. 

"Remember..." she clears her throat. "Ehm, Remember when we talked about how we each like being called, you said you were happy to call me babygirl, but you didn't want me calling you 'Daddy'? You said that was a hard limit for you, right?" 

"Yes... so?" 

"Well..." gulp. "I - I want to be able to call you 'Daddy' sometimes". 

Shit, shit, shit. Breathe, Dan. You avoided explaining before; now it's time to 'fess up. 

"Baby, my aversion to that title is not simply a matter of preferences in kink. If it were, I'd totally play along, knowing it made you happy." She nods, looking back down at her hands. Again I reach to turn her face up so I can look at her, and find her eyes brimming with tears. Double fuck. 

"Sandra... my issue - to me, that word is just way too loaded to use in play. For one, my relationship with my own father... there's a ton of bad baggage there. Then on top of that, Naomi and I had tried for kids for years, and failed. And as a result of that our whole marriage fell apart." I shake my head, grimacing. "So to me, that word, 'daddy' - it's hopelessly connected to 'heartache' in my mind. I'm sorry, but I just can't do that. Using it would kill any play for me, guaranteed." I grimace. "I hate disappointing you, baby. Maybe -" 

I stop short. Could I really voice that hope out loud? 

I don't know if it's the eerie, surreal feel of the early morning, or the lingering sweetness of the dream in my mind, but something makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, something magical would happen if I let myself hope, here, with Sandra. I've never been fanciful, but right now - 

Trust and hope, Dan. 

"Maybe that would change someday. Maybe one day when I have kids..." I look into her eyes, silently adding 'with you' - "...maybe it'd be different. It may not be a mood killer forever." 

She nods now, looking strangely, hugely relieved. In fact, there may just be a hopeful smile curling the corner of her mouth. I tilt my head, looking at her questioningly. She hesitates, but finally speaks softly. 

"So, what if it wasn't during play that I wanted to call you 'daddy'?" Hope is definitely winning that battle now, lighting up the dark blue depths of her eyes. 

I'm not sure I follow. "Huh? How do you mean, baby?" 

She takes a big breath and turns away from me, reaching for the nightstand beside her, and then faces me again, holding something in her hand. Holding my eyes she opens her grip, showing the mystery object to me. 

I drop my gaze to her hand, and my heart stops. And then kicks into crazy double-beat. 

It's a pregnancy test stick. And there are, very clearly, two pink stripes in the small oval window. 

"Congratulations, Daddy." 

* 

* 

* 

Author's note: Did you like this chapter? Tell me, please! VOTE, FAVORITE and COMMENT. Thank you so much!



Hitting the Bottom Ch. 09



Author's note: 

As always, thank you to my co-creator and editor, the Brit. 

If you're new to this story - I'm so glad you're here! While you're welcome to join anytime, I'd heartily recommend starting at the beginning as this chapter is going to be hard to jump into. Also, this series is the 3rd in my loosely-related trilogy of stories; so if you want to experience it the way I had envisioned it, please start with Lucky Bastard, continue to Whiskey and Rye, and then come back to Hitting the Bottom. It's going to be worth your time, I promise! 

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew gradually, until finally they became lovers. Dan was reluctant to dominate Sandra, but with his shrink's blessing they did start playing. It was all fun and games - until he forgot the condom in the heat of the moment, and Sandra got pregnant. 

In this chapter: Dan faces his worst fears; finds himself loving having Sandra on top. 

~~~~~~~ 

For the longest moment I cannot breathe; only stare at those two tiny pink stripes dumbly. My mind is blank; the shock of her words had just short-circuited it. 

"Dan?" 

Sandra's hesitant voice pulls my eyes up to meet hers and her anxious expression kick-starts my stalled brain. I gulp, and then, finally, lean over to take her in my arms. There's a fine tremor in her stiff form as she buries her face in my chest while my hands tighten around her, holding her close. 

"Shhh... come here baby... it's going to be all right. Shhh..." 

She must know - as well as I do - that's wishful thinking rather than any real promise, but Sandra doesn't challenge my words. Instead she clings to me, burrowing into the crook of my neck, as we hold onto each other like two survivors in a lifeboat, faced with nature's capricious forces. Never before have I faced first-hand just how overwhelming they can be. 

After a while Sandra relaxes a bit in my arms, heaves a shaky breath, and leans back to look at my eyes. 

"You're not mad, then?" 

"What? No! Of course not." I look at her, bewildered. "I mean, I don't really know how I feel. Shocked, I guess. But no, I'm not angry, baby." A shaky laugh escapes me. "Not at you, anyways." 

She nods and drops her eyes, but I need to see her. I tilt her face back up with my fingers. 

"What about you, baby?" 

She swallows hard, then admits softly: "I'm freaking out. Big time." 

"You are?" I search her pale face. She looks helpless, but tries to explain. "I mean, I've always wanted babies, in theory, you know? But..." She doesn't finish the thought, burying her face in her hands. I know what she left unsaid. But not right now, and not like this. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean." I agree reluctantly. We both fall quiet, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. Mine keep going back to one nagging question, which I finally decide to broach, carefully. 

"Thank you, by the way." 

She looks up at me. "What for?" 

I shrug, stalling for time, feeling my stomach churning. We need to face this, and sooner, rather than later. Determined, though consciously keeping my voice light, I answer. 

"For not taking the morning-after pill." 

Her eyes widen, and then drop. I can barely make out her mumbled reply: "I did think about it." 

My throat feels constricted. I clear it, and push my question out through the dryness. "What made you decide not to, then?" 

She looks back up to meet my gaze head-on. "I believed we were safe, timing-wise. And I didn't want to take such a strong drug if I didn't have to." She lowers her eyes to study her hands, squeezed between her thighs, as she sits on the side of the bed, rocking lightly with her nerves. "I've a friend who'd taken it in the past. The side effects are... not trivial." 

"Yes, so I've heard." I say, but then again, that doesn't quite answer my question. My real question, that is, which I'm not brave enough to voice in so many words... and yet, I need to know. 

"Would you have taken it, if it weren't for the risk of those side effects?" 

She hesitates. "Honestly? I don't know. I guess I really didn't want to make that decision right then; it was easy to rule out the pill because of the risks, and to hope I won't ever have to really think about it." She falls quiet, her cheeks colored with a faint blush. And then she meets my eyes. "But I promise, Dan, that even if I did use the morning-after pill, I wouldn't have done it without talking to you first." 

My stomach cramps again with uneasy, helpless gratitude. I'm appalled by my own fierce reaction to the idea of her considering termination. On every level - other than this overwhelming, visceral response - it's something I'd not only expect might happen, but would also support. I believe children should come to this world wanted and loved, to parents who receive them as the true gifts that they are; who would provide for their material and emotional needs. And yet - 

We hold each other's gaze. I reach her fingers with mine and lace them together, and then bend down to kiss her white, cool knuckles, resolved to focus on the small positive I can find in the situation. 

"Thank you for that, baby." 

She nods mutely. We sit in awkward silence, until she asks tentatively: "So, it sounds like you didn't want me to take that pill; does that mean you... want this?" 

"This?" I repeat lightly, raising an eyebrow, and her blush deepens. I squeeze her hand, sobering. "Look... having a baby right now - we both know the timing couldn't be worse. We've only known each other for a few weeks. We haven't even talked about long-term commitment. As for me - you know, I'm... kind of a mess right now. I'm just starting to sort myself out. And you - you still have another year in school to get your diploma. A baby certainly wasn't part of your plans, right?" 

She nods, her head hanging low, but in-between the streaks of blond I can see her cheeks had grown pale. I reach for her chin to gently turn her around to face me. "And yet, here I am, inexplicably relieved that you didn't use the day-after contraceptive. Crazy, huh?" 

She looks at me, wide-eyed, as if unsure how to react. I lean back to wipe my hand over my face, into my short-cropped hair, the prickling sensation somehow providing an out to my bottled-up agitation. "I mean, I'm not a hundred percent sure how I feel about this, either. All I'm saying is... for some reason, along with being kind of shocked and overwhelmed by the idea of a baby, it also makes me feel - well... hopeful." 

She turns to look at me fully. "Seriously?" 

"Yeah. Seriously. I didn't tell you at the time, but when I realized I forgot the condom... of course I pulled out immediately; but still... afterwards... the thought of you, pregnant with my baby - it was such a beautiful dream. I wanted it to last. I hated the thought of you... making sure it didn't happen." 

Sandra falls quiet. She seems nervous, undecided, nibbling on her short, clean-cut nails. Finally she looks into my eyes and asks me straight: 

"Does that mean you don't want me to have an abortion?" 

Her words ring in the air between us, sharp and clear, out of place in the soft early-morning light. Her gaze is steady and unflinching; her clear-blue eyes looking straight into mine. 

I cannot hide from her. I won't. Trust and hope. 

"Baby..." I take a deep, fortifying breath. "Sandra, I love you." She blinks in surprise, but I don't give her an opening to respond. "I love you -" I repeat, needing these words to be present between us, "- and being a father, well, it's been on top of my wish list for so long, I forget anything else that was there before. So the short answer is - no, I don't want you to have an abortion. I know that means a 'forever'. And as sudden as this is, I promise you - I want it. I want you, and I want this baby, now and for the rest of our lives." 

Her mouth had fallen open, but again I continue, needing to get it all out before she can reply. 

"But baby - this isn't something I could decide for you. It's your life. It's your body. Taking on the kind of risks that come with pregnancy and childbirth, the commitment of raising a child -" I shake my head, squeezing her cold hands in mine. "- that's got to be your choice, Sandra. And you'd have every right to say 'no', if you don't want it." 

I search her eyes, and my heart almost breaks at the look of anguished uncertainty behind a glossy sheen of tears. Her throat works repeatedly before she manages a squeaky whisper: 

"Fifteen minutes ago, all I could think about is 'please let him be okay with this.' And now that I know you are, all I have in my head is - wh-what if I cannot do it? What if I'm not ready for that kind of commitment?" 

I feel the pit of my stomach drop at her words. Fuck me. What did I expect? An "I love you too" and "let's have a baby together"?! I know she never wanted to get pregnant - she made that clear from the start; had insisted on condoms. Did I really think she'd be willing to have a baby now, with me, just because I wanted it? 

I try to think of something to say that would reassure her, but I know it's a futile effort. She isn't ready. She said so herself. Time. We both need time to think this through. 

"Baby, I -" I gulp, and then continue with more conviction than I actually feel. "I meant what I said. It really is your choice. But - but you don't have to make it right now, do you? There's some time to figure things out, isn't there?" 

Her furrowed brow seems to clear a bit at that. "I guess so... I mean, I'm barely three weeks along - which means five, by the standard medical count from the first day of my last period - still, very early on. So, I guess - yes, there's some time to - to digest, to think before deciding anything. It's just..." She stops, biting her lips, her cheeks milky-white again. 

"It's just... what?" 

She shakes her head, unwilling to continue, not even looking at me - instead she leans forward over her knees, her head buried in her hands. I find myself slipping down to kneel in front of her on the small, fuzzy, purple carpet she keeps at the side of her bed. I close my fingers around her wrists, tugging them so that I can take her hands in mine, and make her look at me. Reluctantly, she does. 

"Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me what's in your head right now." 

Her chin quivers, and then I see the first tears sliding down her ashen cheeks. The sight slices at my gut. Fuck me. I've never seen her cry before, and haven't realized until this very moment just how hard her tears would hit me. Shit, shit, shit! 

"Baby... come here." 

Sandra clings to me, sobbing even harder as I wrap my arms around her. The position is a little awkward - with me still kneeling between her legs, hugging her torso, while she holds onto my neck and shoulders. But she finally lets go, allowing her anguish an out through her tears... I guess I'd just stay here for a while. 

"Shh... Baby... Breathe... We'll figure it out, I promise..." 

I try to reassure her in a low, quiet voice. She nods, probably responding more to my tone than anything else. I take it as a good sign - I was half-expecting her to tell me to shut up. Finally, after a while - I'm not sure how long, but long enough for my knees to start protesting - she starts to calm down, so I tighten my arms around her and murmur into her ear: "Hold on tight, baby. I'm going to pick you up." 

She doesn't answer, but her feet come up to link behind the small of my back, and I can feel her fingers close on my shoulders. I keep one hand around her back, and use the other to push up against the bed, and then walk, with her still in my arms, out to the living room. Sandra is not a tiny woman; carrying her takes real effort. But man, it feels good. Manly. I shake my head internally. Pathetic. Then immediately get annoyed at my own knee-jerk negativity. Stop. It's okay to feel good about being her man; It's a good thing. Don't belittle yourself. Trust and hope, Dan. 

I settle down carefully on the couch with her straddling my lap. Once seated, I keep quiet and simply breathe slowly in and out, exaggerating the exhales, and am relieved to see it does the trick - Sandra seems to mimic my pace and relax in my arms. I kiss her temple lightly and slowly stroke her back, trying to soothe her further. 

"Baby, please... there's no rush. We've got some time; we'll figure it out." 

I mean the words to be reassuring, but instead feel Sandra's body stiffen, and then she leans back to look at me. "Yes, but - it's not a ton of time, you know." 

Trying not to panic I draw a long, shaky breath. "Okay, I think I need a crash course here. What is the timeline we're looking at?" 

She leans back so that our eyes meet. "I - I'll need to check, but I think first prenatal checkup should be scheduled around 7 weeks gestation - I'll call my gynecologist's office a little later, when they open - but that's like two weeks from now." 

"And we need a decision to be made by then?" I ask, unable to keep the alarm out of my voice. 

Sandra shakes her head, her face grim. "No - not exactly. I mean, up until 14 weeks or so the procedure for termination is not very risky. And there's the option of later termination, too, before the fetus becomes viable - up until 24 weeks or so, I think. But -" she chews hard on her lower lip, and looks like she's going to burst into tears again. "- but at 7 weeks they do an ultrasound to make sure it's in the right place - inside the uterus - and that it's growing normally, and -" now she's crying again, but she keeps talking through her tears. "- and they check for a h-heartbeat." 

Her voice breaks on that last word, and she seems to fold into herself, crying once more, her forehead pressed against my chest. I can just barely make her next words through her shaking sobs. 

"And I - I don't know if... if I'd be able to do it if -" she shakes her head against my chest, her hands clinging hard to my back. "- if it already had a beating heart." 

My own pulse kicks erratically at her words. Just imagining that scenario... I squeeze her harder in my arms. "Shh... okay. It's okay baby. So - let's take a week, okay? Let's take a week to think about it, to let this sink in, to talk about it... and then decide. Okay? Can we do that?" 

I feel, rather than hear, her mumbled sniffled 'm'kay' against my neck. 

Okay. Trust and hope. I suck in a deep breath, and release it slowly. Then repeat. 

When she finally calms down, Sandra leans back to meet my eyes. Her face is flushed and bloated from crying, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips swollen... she looks more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her before. The need to protect her surges inside me, choking me in its intensity, and I move to embrace her again, but her hands on my chest stop me, pushing firmly to keep me in place. My head jerks back with surprise. 

"Dan, I just need to know... I need to know you won't hate me if -" 

Her voice trails off, but I hear the unsaid words loud and clear. 'If I decided to have an abortion'. I try swallowing, but my throat is dry as a desert. Can I promise her that? I want to reassure her, but I don't want to lie to her, either. When I finally manage to get my words out, it's not exactly the answer she was looking for, but the best I can do right now. 

"Baby, I love you. I can't imagine not loving you. And I'd never hurt you - you know that, right? I'm - I'm going to take this up with Dr. Pappas, okay? Just to be on the safe side..." Now I'm the one who loses his nerve mid-sentence. 

She cups both my cheeks in her hands, looking at me a bit funnily. 

"I know you won't hurt me, Dan. That's not what I meant - although if you feel you need to talk to Dr. Pappas about it then - yeah, you need to do that." 

She halts and shifts uncomfortably in my lap. "It's just - what you just said, about loving me, I'm... I'm scared that it's too good to be true. We're talking about making life-changing decisions, one way or the other, and I -" she shakes her head, clearly frustrated. "I don't know how we could possibly not screw this up." 

I take both her hands in mine and kiss each palm in turn before lowering them to rest between us, then admit ruefully - "You know, I've had this mantra I've been using ever since... well, since then. Maybe you'd like to try it out... " She raises her eyebrows questioningly. Looking into her eyes, feeling ridiculously brave as I lay my deepest secrets bare before her, I say it out loud. 

"Trust and hope, baby. Trust and hope." 

She smiles tentatively at me. "Okay." 

Just like that. Her acceptance floors me; humbles me. But then, I've always known she was a better person than I could ever hope to be. I nod and swallow hard. 

"Okay." 

* 

She drags in a slow, shuddering breath. Then, slowly, her face seems to relax and then brighten, one light eyebrow arching up, tugging along the corner of her mouth into a knowing little smile. I watch the transformation, mesmerized, and almost miss her soft murmur. 

"So, what you said before... was that just to get me to stop crying, or did you really mean it?" 

I feel my own cheeks groove in response. I know what she's asking, but am not above making her squirm a little. "Which part?" 

Her confident facade melts, exposing the fragile hope underneath. "Do you really love me, Dan?" 

I nod solemnly. "I do. Is that so hard to believe?" 

She leans close, so close that our noses almost touch; her eyes are fixed on mine, large and gleaming with her emotions. 

"I love you, too." 

I feel her words warm my lips and then flow past, filling me with their sweetness, spreading heat down my chest to my belly, like a shot of brandy on a cold night, melting my insides. I gather her close, cup her warm cheeks in my hands, and kiss her. 

I mean to be gentle, but the moment our lips meet sparks flare between us, catching the heat, and we're both lost to the flames. She opens her mouth under my lips, her tongue inviting mine inside, and her hands pull me close. 

I can't get enough of her. I need to feel her skin against mine. I pull her clingy night shirt off of her in one urgent tug, discarding it uncaringly in my haste to fill my palms with her curves. Sandra's palms stroke up and down my sides, broadcasting her own need. Getting her panties off proves harder with her straddling my thighs, and I push her to stand in front of me, then hook my fingers in the elastic band at her hips. 

Looking up at her I catch a glimpse of her flushed face, partially hidden by soft blond curtains, and smile. Seeing her like this, turned on and impatient, it is all I can do not to tackle her to the floor. Instead, I force myself to slow down, take my time getting her panties off, enjoy the feel of her skin and the sound of her breath catching along the way. Yeah. That's more like it. 

Finally when the lace-trimmed white undies are pooled at her ankles, I brush my hand lightly along her inner thigh. She obeys my unspoken command and steps out of them, and her compliance sends a surge of need straight to my cock, which now strains uncomfortably against my boxers. Holding onto her hips I lean forward to place a soft kiss on the lower slope of her belly, just where it disappears beneath her blond pubic fuzz, and hear her sharp inhale. 





Hitting the Bottom Ch. 09



Our baby is in there, nestled inside her womb. 

The thought is almost as overwhelming as it was a short while ago when I first learned of the fact, but now I push it resolutely to the back of my head. We said we won't think about it right now. Instead, I want this moment to be just about us; just Sandra and me, loving each other. I bend my head and kiss lower. 

Her hands grasp my shoulders and she spreads her legs wider, tilting her hips forward to give me better access. I use both my thumbs to part her folds and take a moment to feast my eyes before swiping my tongue all along her pink cleft, tasting her, and then fitting my mouth to her nether lips for a long, leisurely, intimate french kiss. 

Her scent and taste, her tangy sleekness, her smooth thighs, her fingers tugging at my hair and scraping my skull - sensations surround me, and I succumb to them. This is heaven. I bend even lower to let my tongue delve deeper, and my nose bumps her clit repeatedly. Her hands tighten in my hair as she grinds herself against my face, seeking a firmer touch. 

"Harder, please...!" Her voice is breathless. Horny. 

Her unexpected boldness excites me beyond belief. Suddenly there's nothing I want more than for her to take her pleasure from me, just like that. To tell me and show me exactly what she wants. To fucking make me give it to her. I slide down to sit on the floor, my shoulders against the front of the sofa, and tilt my head all the way back to meet her heavy-lidded eyes. 

"Ride my face, baby. Show me what you need." 

She gasps her surprise, but doesn't hesitate. Placing her shins firmly on the cushion on either side of my head she leans one hand on the back of the sofa, the other curling at my nape as she locks her eyes with mine, her swollen, pink pussy hovering mere inches from my face. 

"Do it, baby. Ride me." I say, my voice too gruff to be recognizable. Whimpering, Sandra shifts forward, pressing herself hard against my open, waiting mouth. Almost immediately she starts grinding, rolling and tilting her hips until she finds that exact spot where my tongue, flattened and extended down towards my chin, rubs her clit just right... she pauses and shudders there, and I hear her faint 'oh fuck...' as she once more starts moving, now in tiny, controlled circles. My arms come up the backs of her thighs to support her, helping her to keep that exact position as she pleasures herself with glorious abandon, throwing her head back and moaning deeply. 

While I love eating pussy, I've never had a woman use me quite like that before. The thought makes me dizzy with desire, and the haziness is further enhanced by my limited breath. I take quick, erratic inhales whenever Sandra bucks or pauses momentarily, and try swallowing, though it's hard with the awkward angle my neck is tilted at. 

Fleetingly I think, so this is what it feels like to get your face fucked; to struggle to breathe and to slobber all over yourself, not caring about a damn thing other than giving pleasure... Fuck, I get it now. Then all thought is gone when I hear Sandra's breathless plea: "Please... fuck me with your tongue. I want to feel your tongue inside of me." 

Peeking up into her stormy blue eyes I stick my tongue out, and watch her lower herself onto it, taking it right into her sweet, tight hole, not stopping until her swollen lips press juicily against mine. My fingers tighten at her ass as I tongue-fuck her cunt, delving as deep as I can before retreating to lick just inside the spasming opening, then shaking my head hard from side to side, rubbing her clit purposefully with my nose. I can barely hear a thing over the wild beating of my own heart with her thighs pressing over my ears, but every few seconds a low, guttural moan or a high-pitched whine penetrate through, and I shudder with echoed pleasure. 

My whole face is smeared with her sweet secretions. Her thick woman's scent is everywhere. Her movements become jerkier, less controlled, and then both her hands come to grab at the back of my head and she shifts back to rubbing her clit over my flat tongue once more, looking straight down into my eyes as she strains to reach her climax. 

She hangs right there on the edge for a few precious moments, her clit throbbing, pulsating against my sensitive tongue... until finally she topples over, one hand shooting out to keep from falling as she shudders and heaves. She bucks against my face several times, until finally, when the last of her after-shakes subside, she collapses back onto her haunches, tearing her too-sensitive clit away from my mouth. She leans her head on her outstretched arms, too spent to do anything but breathe, huffing and puffing over my head. 

Despite my own acute need - and the growing discomfort in my neck and shoulders - I don't move. For one, I need a moment to digest what had just happened, probably as much as she does. I had just submitted to her. Let her top me. Let her use me like I was her freakin' fucktoy. And I absolutely loved every second of it. 

But the other reason I am reluctant to move is simpler: my face is now cradled in between two hot, soft, sweaty breasts... hard to complain, even when my balls feel they're about to explode. I bring my hands up to her sides to fill them with those gorgeous globes, and slowly rub my cheeks in the deep, lush valley between them - getting some of her cream off my morning-whiskered cheeks in the process. 

I feel her breathless laughter bubbling inside before she leans back and it spills over me like sweet champagne: "Shall I fetch you a towel?" 

Smiling up at her I shake my head resolutely. "Absolutely not, baby. I love each and every drop of your cum." To give further credence to my words I lick slowly between her breasts, lapping up the juice from her skin before taking one reddish-pink nipple into my mouth, swirling my tongue all around it, before letting it pop out only to do the same with its twin. 

Sandra moans. "Please, Dan..." 

I chuckle, though having come down from the crazy high I was on a moment ago with Sandra riding my face, I am only too aware of the throbbing ache in my dick, still trapped inside my boxers, leaking profusely. "I thought I just did?" 

She colors a bright pink, and I take pity on her. I tap her upper thighs and she takes the hint, moving back to stand on the floor, which brings her pussy to eye level once more. I am almost tempted to start all over again, but if nothing else, the painful stiffness in my neck reminds me I should probably move. Her hand floats before my face and I look up, see her smirk as she offers her help. I grab her forearm, and her fingers close securely around my wrist. Her grin widens, and she leans back and tugs me up, hard enough to make me bump into her, my swollen dick pressing into her soft belly through wet, stretched cotton. 

She looks down, rubs herself slowly, maddeningly, against me, then leans back to meet my eyes, her smirk even wider. 

"Anything I can help you with here, baby?" 

I feel a growl rising from somewhere deep in my chest, and I reach around her to fill my palms with her fleshy ass cheeks, pressing her hard against me, spreading her nakedness obscenely from behind. I can feel her moist heat just millimeters from my fingertips, and my palms twitch, my nails pressing into her delicate skin. 

"I need to be inside of you. Now." 

Nodding, she pushes back from me. I drop my hands as, still holding my eyes, she starts walking backwards, slowly, her full breasts and hips swaying temptingly from side to side. Vixen. When I move to follow she reaches out to take my hand, winks, and then turns to lead us both into her bedroom. 

She doesn't stop, but continues to climb up onto the bed, then flops over to her back, throws her arms above her head and spreads her legs wide. She lies there open, waiting, welcoming. The longing on her face takes my breath away. 

"I'm all yours, Dan." 

It's almost enough to tip me over the edge. Inhaling, I close my eyes briefly, reaching for that elusive thread of control... Fisting my hands as I grab onto it I exhale, and then consciously relax my muscles. Yes. I open my eyes to catch a glimpse of insecurity crossing her lovely face. Better hurry up there, officer. I watch her in unabashed adoration even before I expose the full extent of it by dropping my boxers, and am rewarded with a dazzling smile. God, she's gorgeous when she's horny. 

I crawl up right between her open thighs, not stopping until my body covers hers completely, my hands finding hers, lacing our fingers together above her head, my weight on my forearms, my dick's length pressing along her slit. Restraint tremors in my muscles that long to spring into action. Instead, I hold myself there, soaking up her warmth, her vulnerability, her need. 

Her eyes are wide open, letting me see every emotion behind them, holding nothing back. Her heartbeat flutters at the base of her throat. Her earlier sass and playfulness are gone, discarded like pretty, sparkly masks after a ball, revealing naked human beauty underneath. 

"I love you, babygirl." 

She melts. Her lips open and her knees spread wider, and I sink my cock into her, engulfing myself in her wet heat. I stay there, feeling her inner walls tighten exquisitely around me, fighting the all-consuming need to thrust by grinding slowly against her, while my lips and tongue mesh with hers for a wild, deep, demanding kiss. Sandra reciprocates with equal urgency, until finally we break for a much-needed breath, panting hard. Her eyes catch and hold mine. 

"I love you, too." 

Her words send little firecrackers sizzling down my spine. Unable to resist any longer I start moving deep inside her, wanting to savor every sensation but unable to hold back my overwhelming need anymore. I bottom out with every stroke, and she arches up under me, moaning and then calling out in sweet agony whenever the swollen head of my dick bumps against her cervix. Her reaction fuels my own excitement and I fuck her harder, rejoicing in the way her fingers tighten between mine, her short nails biting into the back of my hand with each hard thrust - God, so deep... Fuck...! 

A sudden thought strikes me and I freeze, though the effort to do so leaves me visibly shaking. 

"Sandra, baby, Is it... " 

"Safe?" she asks breathlessly, and tries to smile, but her face is tight with her own need. "Yes. It is. Absolutely. Don't stop, please!" 

"Thank God," I reply, surge deep into her once more, shuddering as her walls tighten and squeeze around me, then pull back only to thrust deeply again. And again. And again. 

"Yes, yes, yes!" she agrees enthusiastically, and I laugh out loud; and then all rational thought melts as I lose myself in her. 

* 

* 

* 

Tuesday at Dr. Pappas, I wait impatiently for my appointment to start. With every day that passes I am more certain of what I want. I want Sandra, and I want our baby; I want us to be a family. 

We haven't talked more about the decision looming on the horizon; not yet. We spent the rest of the weekend in bed, firmly focused on the present and keeping any thoughts of the future resolutely out of our minds. Then Monday came with a vengeance, Sandra's hectic work and school schedule making it even easier to avoid. Unspoken between us was the understanding that I needed to talk with Dr. Pappas and gain his perspective before we face the topic again. 

I am anxious. Shit, I'm downright scared. What if he says I can't do it? What if he says it's too big of a risk for me to become a father right now? Fuck, what if it's too big of a risk for me NOT to? If Sandra had an abortion, given my reaction to the idea... what if she did and I snapped again?! 

Feeling my throat constrict, hearing the rush of blood in my ears, I lean low over my knees, cup my hands over my mouth and nose, and focus solely on exhaling, making sure to empty my lungs all the way before drawing in my next shaky breath. 

"Dan, you okay?" 

Fuck. My head shoots up to meet the good doctor's narrowed light-blue eyes, scrutinizing me over the rim of his small oval glasses. I was so deep inside my head I hadn't noticed the previous patient leaving the room, nor Dr. Pappas' soft-spoken invite to 'come in, please'. 

I realize I am panting, still bent over in my seat, although my eyes are locked with the shrink's. 

"Anxiety?" he asks matter-of-factly, and I curse under my breath before pushing up to stand before him. 

"Yeah. Big time." I admit. Thankfully my heart rate had already slowed enough to stop the shaking, and my voice comes out almost normal. 

He smiles, unfazed. "Well, you've come to the right place then, Dan. Step into my office please." 

* 

We sit down in our respective chairs, and Dr. Pappas walks over to fill a paper cup with water, then places it in front of me on the small coffee table. I reach for it and take a deep gulp, grimly satisfied with the steadiness of my hand as I do.  

Dr. Pappas takes his seat and waits another moment, possibly to see if I'd start talking on my own, but when I don't he clears his throat and takes the lead, as he usually does in our conversations. 

"Want to tell me what just happened?" 

I press my lips in annoyance, but nod. "You saw what happened. I panicked. Again." 

"Hmm. Yes, well, I thought you actually did very well out there." 

"I - what?" 

"I saw you. Clearly you were agitated, but by no means out of control. You seemed to be doing one of those breathing techniques, right?" 

"I - yeah, I guess I was. But it wasn't a conscious decision... it just felt right to do it." 

"That's great; we want it to become a second nature to you. And I'm glad to see it worked." 

"I was so out of it I didn't hear you come out." 

"True. For a very short spell. But you responded coherently when I spoke to you. You're sitting here having a calm and clear conversation with me not two minutes after the fact - whereas a few weeks ago you'd be bent over the toilet, trying to puke the anxiety out of your belly. I'd say you're doing remarkably well, Dan." 

I swallow hard. "I - thanks. It didn't feel so good while I was at it, though." 

Dr. Pappas chuckles. "I'm sure it didn't. But it wasn't half as bad as it was before, right?" 

I guess. "Right." 

"Good; remember that. It's important that you recognize your own embetterment. Now, how about you tell me what brought this little episode about?" 

Studying my hands, I find myself mortified with embarrassment. I feel like a sixteen-year-old boy, about to tell his dad he'd just knocked up his girlfriend. I peek up and see him leaning back in his chair, his chin resting on his fingers. Ah yes. The silence-until-they-talk trick. How can it work every damned time for him?! With an annoyed grunt - aimed at both of us, really - I look straight in his eyes and blurt it out: 

"Sandra's pregnant." 

That gives him pause, I notice with a twisted little pang of victory. It takes my news a moment to sink in before he tilts his head lightly to the side and responds. 

"Hmm. I see. Sandra's pregnant, and you're freaking out." He raises his eyebrows in question, though his voice states it as a fact. I nod. "Well," he continues conversationally, "I'd say that's a completely normal reaction." 

I bark my surprised laugh. "Seriously? That's your professional view?" 

An answering smile tugs at his mouth. "In fact, yes. It is." But then his look turns serious, his eyes intently focused on mine. "You see, Dan, I would be very concerned if you were dancing with pure joy in my waiting room. Or if I found you in a state of blind rage. Or denial. Or indifference. But none of the above happened. You being scared, anxious - that means you grasp the magnitude of this reality, and that you recognize it's going to impact you, too, not just Sandra. So yeah, that's well within the range of normal reactions to this kind of news. In fact -" 

He stops, and to my astonishment I see a faint blush rise on the apples of his cheeks, peeking above his short-cropped grey beard. I just gape at him. 

Shaking his head, clearly annoyed with himself, Dr. Pappas mumbles something incoherent before coming to some kind of resolution and meeting my eyes. 

"I was going to say - in fact, that's just how I felt when my own wife got pregnant, some 40 years ago." 

I am stumped. Why would he tell me that? But then, I'm also curious. "40 years ago? What were you, like, 20?" 

"Nineteen, yes. And she wasn't quite eighteen. It was a month after her graduation. We were going steady but not even thinking about marriage. It was... quite a shock. For both of us." His faraway look clears when he looks back at me. "I'm sure you can relate to that feeling." 

I grin. "Breaking the rules here with me, aren't you, doctor?" 

He shrugs, his cheeks still warm, but holds my eyes. "Not quite breaking them, but maybe... pushing the limits a bit?" His eyes twinkle at his own obvious choice of words, his face more open than I'd ever seen it, the invisible veil of professional detachment momentarily lifted. "I really like you, Dan. And I'm rooting for you. Now don't worry, I'm not going to bore you with my life story; but I did feel like you could use that little piece of history as a... reminder, if you will." 

"I - I'm not sure I follow, doc. A reminder of what?" 

He smiles. "Of life being what happens while you're busy making other plans" he quips Lennon's famous line. "And for it being messy and scary most of the time, for most people. All I'm saying is, it's okay to freak out." he pauses, then prods further. "How's Sandra feeling about this? Have you two decided what you're going to do yet?" 

...and just like that, the shrink is back. Reluctantly I sit up straighter, allowing us both to slip back to our designated roles. It's probably for the best. 

"No, nothing's decided. We're both quite... overwhelmed by it. We agreed to take a week to think before making any decisions. And I wanted to talk to you - Sandra agreed that was a good idea." 

He smiles. "I concur." and then his gaze sharpens once more. "So, you freaking out - want to tell me what you're afraid of, exactly?" 

"I'm afraid I'd hurt them, one way or another." 

"Them?" 

I nod, swallowing hard. "Sandra and - and the baby." 

"How do you see yourself hurting them? What do you imagine could happen?" he asks, and the soft-spoken words feel like a punch in my stomach. I gasp. 

"I don't. I can't imagine hurting them. Not for a second. Never." 

He quirks an eyebrow. "Then, what are you afraid of?" 

I drag in a shuddering breath. "I'd never hurt them intentionally. But then -" I shrug helplessly. "I feel like I'd be damned if I did and damned if I didn't." 

"Hmm. Explain that to me." 

"Well if Sandra did decide to have the baby, I'm afraid I won't be able to be a father for him. That I'd somehow screw that up completely. And if she decided not to have it... it's just... devastating to think about it." 

"Devastating is a strong word." he points out. 

"I know." 

"Hmm." he nods, considering me, then asks - "is that how you felt when Naomi moved on? Devastated?" 

His blunt question strikes right at the core of my anxiety, stirring it up. I focus on puffing my exhales through pursed lips, and force myself to face my demons, right there in the cozy, tranquil room. 

Is that how I felt about Naomi moving on? Thinking back, I remember a numbing, all-consuming fear and an unwavering certainty that I had to change her decision; that if I didn't, everything would be over. I would be over. And I remember my rage, roaring inside my head at the incredibly cruel injustice of her slipping away from me just when I thought I got one final chance. I was furious. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 09



"No... not exactly." 

"What was different about it, then?" 

The answer, when it comes to me, is crystal-clear, washing me with relief. I take the first full breath in what feels like forever; making the blood tingle in my veins with oxygen rush. "I was so angry then. I felt wronged by the Fates. That's absolutely not how I feel when I think about Sandra getting an abortion." 

"What do you feel then, when you think about it?" He asks quietly. 

I need to blink a few times to ease the prickling behind my eyes. "It's just - sad. So sad that it hurts. Physically." 

"Hmm. I can see that. I can see your pain; I can hear it in your voice. Now I know this is difficult, but I'm going to ask you to stay with that feeling for a moment longer. Stay with your deep sorrow at the thought of Sandra getting an abortion. Be there in your mind. Let's say it just happened. Where would you be while she does it? At home? At the clinic with her?" 

"I'd go with her." I know that with a certainty. "She can't be alone there... I'd go with her, but I don't think I'd be able to - to go into the room while... " I choke and cough. Dr. Pappas nods. 

"Okay. So imagine you're just outside the doctor's office, sitting in the waiting room, and you know what's going on in there, behind the closed door." 

It's hard to breathe. I make myself count to three on every inhale and exhale like I'd sometimes do when I go jogging; it works. Dr. Pappas studies me mutely, letting me struggle through it without comment. When I meet his eyes, he continues. 

"And then Sandra's coming out the door, and you know that's it's done. It's all over. What's going through your head right now?" 

Imagining it in my mind, I am overwhelmed with emotions - grief and helplessness, but also, surprisingly, a renewed surge of fear that almost knocks me over in its intensity. "I need to know that Sandra's okay. That there were no complications..." my belly drops as horrible images flash in my mind. Sandra's face growing pale, collapsing, bleeding... 

Once more I find myself bent over my knees, practicing those damned exhales until the buzzing in my ears recedes, and I pull up slowly to meet Dr. Pappas's calm, yet intent, stare. 

"So, what do you think you'd do just then?" 

I shift in my seat uncomfortably. "I... I'd probably fuss like a mother hen, and make a total fool of myself." 

Dr. Pappas smiles. "Yes, I can imagine you would." then, gently, he adds: "Dan, I want you to remember this was just an exercise. Having you imagine this scenario doesn't make it any more real, or any more probable, than it was before. It is a possibility, but please remember that it hasn't really happened, at least not yet. Nothing's changed from the moment you told me she's pregnant, and has yet to decide what she's going to do about it. Okay?" 

I swallow hard. "Okay." then after a moment I ask - "Why'd you ask me to do it?" 

He considers me thoughtfully before answering. "Well, many times, I find it useful to have my patients play out their worst fears all the way through, in the safe environment of my clinic. You see, most of us try to shy away from our fears because thinking about them is... well, scary. Terrifying. But in my experience allowing ourselves to really follow them through in our minds makes them much more concrete - and therefore, manageable." 

I nod, though in truth I'm still not sure I understand. "Okay." 

Dr. Pappas gives me an encouraging little grin. "I want to commend you for really allowing yourself to be there in that moment in your head, Dan. That was very courageous. And I'm honored that you trusted me enough to do it." 

I clean my throat. "You've earned that trust, doc." 

He dips his head in recognition. "Thank you for that. And having seen and heard you just now, it seems obvious to me - and I hope that to you, too - that your fear of hurting Sandra if she got an abortion is unfounded. I don't think you'd hurt her, even if it does make you profoundly sad, and feeling deeply hurt yourself. Do you?" 

I shake my head, a little dazed, but nonetheless reassured. "No. I don't believe I'd hurt her." 

"Good." he says with quiet satisfaction, and gets up to take my almost-empty water cup, refill it, and place it back in front of me. "Do you need a break, or can you handle continuing this conversation, Dan? We still have some time left today, but I know this must have been tough." 

I drink the proffered water, welcoming the blessed, cool relief down my scratchy throat. Looking up at the clock I see there's still over twenty minutes left. Wow. 

I stand up. "I just need a minute, I think. Is that okay?" 

"Sure; I'll step out to give you a bit of space, and will be back in a few, okay?" 

"Yeah, sure. Thanks." 

Dr. Pappas leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving me to look around me in wonder. Walking over to the window I squint my eyes against the glare coming in through the thin blinds. Peeking out from between them, the world outside seems strangely normal: people walking down the streets, cars driving by, unaware of the magic that just happened in the small, unassuming clinic on the second floor of a grey, boring office building. 

There's a soft knock on the door, and then Dr. Pappas is back in the room, walking over to me, laying a fatherly hand on my shoulder. 

"Ready to continue, Dan? 

"Yes I am, doc." 

We both take our seats, and the shrink dives right back into the conversation. I smile a little at that. I really like that about him; his no-nonsense, let's get to business approach. I find myself, not for the first time, thanking my lucky stars for having him as the psych consult back at the hospital when we first met. 

"So, Dan, let's turn to the other fear you mentioned, about how you're concerned you'd 'screw up being a father' - how do you mean?" 

Alright, I guess he's not going to go easy on me in the time that we have left today, either. I don't answer immediately. Instead I take a couple of sips from my refilled water cup, stalling. Finally I give it a try. "I dunno... maybe - flipping out again sometime in the future over some stupid trigger. Getting violent with either Sandra or the baby. I can't risk that, doc. I just... I can't." 

"What do you think could make you flip out on them? Again, try to imagine such a scenario." 

"I -" I start, but then trail off, searching my mind. Nothing comes up. "I don't have one in my head. I just know it happened in the past, with a woman I loved. The risk is there, and I can't hope it away." 

Dr. Pappas nods. "Right. Let's revisit that, then. We talked a lot about your incident with Naomi; remember what the root cause of that was? Not the trigger, but the underlying fear that drove you to that act?" 

"Well, I... I guess I was afraid I'd never be a man again. That the last thread of hope for being the man I wanted to be, was just... cut." 

"Right. It was an existential crisis, coming at the tail end of a long, downward-spiraling depression that started with your inability to have children with your wife, then made worse by your caving in to your father's demand for a divorce - so that you'd be free to produce offspring with someone else, though you hadn't actually done that. And finally he got ill and you basically had to watch him slowly die, without the two of you ever resolving those issues between you. And on his deathbed he gave you this ray of hope; said he approved of you getting back with Naomi - but then you discovered she had actually moved on with her own life." 

He stops, waiting for my confirmation. At my stiff nod he continues. "So, your hope to 'be a man' was threatened. You felt invalidated in the most fundamental of ways; in your mind, you were fighting for your life. Remember?" 

"In my sick mind, you mean." I state flatly. 

He bows his head, conceding. "In your then-sick mind, yes. But we've talked about that, too. Having had a mental episode doesn't make you crazy forever. It was an acute situation, but you're on your way to recovery. And the fact you suffered it doesn't mean you'll forever have this sword laid across your neck. If I believed that were the case, you'd be in a closed ward at a mental institute." 

He steeples his fingers again, considering me as I struggle, as always, to accept his reassurances in that regard. After a moment, he adds lightly: "In fact, I think having a baby could be very good for you." 

"How come?" I ask skeptically. 

"Well, being a father would give you a new purpose in life, wouldn't it?" 

I nod emphatically. "Oh yeah." If I were to become a father... that would become my number one priority in life. Forever. I can feel myself getting pumped, energized, just thinking about it. Damn that's exciting! 

Dr. Pappas looks at me mutely, letting the thought echo. After a while, he speaks again. "Right. I believe becoming a father could help you heal, in that it could help you rebuild your sense of identity and self-worth. So let's talk about some of your other fears. What else scares you about having a child? 

I shrug, feeling an ironic little smile break the tension on my face. "Well, the usual stuff, I guess. Not wanting to make my kid miserable - like my father made me." 

Dr. Pappas grins back. "Ah, yes. That is very familiar territory in this room." And then adds - "and in your case, I've already learned some of the ways in which you feel your father had failed you. Let me ask you this, then: what were the good things you got from him? In what ways was he a good father to you? What did you learn from him about being a father that would help you be a good father to your own child?" 

The unexpectedness of his question jars me, as memories - good memories - spring to life in my head, so swiftly and intensely that they knock me over. I slump back in my seat, trying to sort them out in my head. 

My father giving me piggyback rides. Teaching me how to ride a bicycle. Coaching my Soccer Little League team. Quizzing me before my high school finals. Buying me condoms the day after I introduced my first girlfriend, telling me it was my responsibility to keep her safe. Holding me tight by my mother's fresh grave, saying the words I needed to hear not to fall apart. Beaming with pride the day I finished the Academy. 

"Dan?" 

I open my eyes to re-focus on Dr. Pappas, who's leaning forward in his seat, looking at me closely. I rub both hands over my face, and am startled to find my cheeks wet. Fuck. Have I been crying? 

I clear my throat, pulling myself back to the present. "I - what was the question again?" 

He repeats himself, his tone gentler than before, but still insistent: "In what ways was your father good for you? From the look on your face it seems there were a few that come to mind?" 

I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze. "I feel like I've betrayed him, having told you so much about him, yet none of the good stuff." 

Dr. Pappas' smiles apologetically at me. "That would be my fault, not yours; I'd steered our conversations that way. Nevertheless, now is your opportunity to do him justice. Go ahead." 

Nodding, I grapple with emotions that had been suppressed for far too long. I feel fresh tears sliding hotly down my cheeks, the unfamiliar sensation oddly comforting. Liberating. "He loved me. He cared. He was involved in my life, had spent time with me. He showed me how to be a good man, how to stand up for my principals, how to live by my morals. He was proud of me..." I stop, choking, and then continue with a grimace. "Except for his obsession with my producing a son to carry on the family name. I think that one was the only real disappointment he had in me. But it was a huge one. It overshadowed everything else." 

"Why do you think it was so important for him?" Dr. Pappas issues an understated challenge. 

"I don't 'think' it was important, I know it for a fact. He told me so, many times over." I answer, pissed. 

"Okay. Why, then?" 

"Because if I didn't, the family would end there. There would be no continuation for it. All those generations before us... there would be nobody to carry on the name." 

"So what?" 

"Excuse me?!" 

Dr. Pappas chuckles. What's so freakin' funny?! I feel my hackles rise, which only seems to deepen his amusement. "I said, 'so what?'. Say there are never to be any sons to carry on the Moreno name. What does that mean? How does that negate the lives and contributions of those past generations?" 

I stare at him blankly. "I - I don't know. It doesn't. I - I haven't thought about it like that." 

"Hmm." 

We both fall silent; Dr. Pappas leaning back in his chair, me still reeling with thoughts, keeping my head down. 'So what' indeed? Suddenly the whole issue seems ridiculous in my mind. Why should it have been such a big deal for my father? Why allow it to define our relationship, be the only measure for my worth as a son to him? 

After a while Dr. Pappas speaks up. "Let me suggest something, Dan. Now I don't know if this is true or not, but it is a possibility I would like for you to consider." 

"Em, okay." 

"You see, for many people, the idea of 'continuing the family name' isn't about the code of honor. Not really. Many times it seems that it's actually about facing their own mortality, coming to terms with it by finding a way to be part of something bigger. I want you to consider this could be how your father saw it: a way in which his memory would live on for generations to come. There is comfort in that thought. It makes a man's impending personal demise seem less... final." 

"Okay..." 

But he continues without pause. "Or, it could simply be something your father grew up with - like an axiom - something that he never questioned but had accepted to be true, and passed on as a truth to you. Either way my point is, it is your choice whether or not to subscribe to the same belief. Just like it is your choice whether or not to see yourself as a failure to him, because you have not continued his family name. Can you see that?" 

I stare at him for a moment. This new perspective is so strange it feels like the floor under my feet had tilted so the whole world presents itself to me in a new angle. Finally, slowly, I nod. "Yeah. I think I can." 

"Good." Dr. Pappas smiles, and then looks up at the clock. "I'm sorry to stop here, but my next patient is already waiting outside. Shall we continue on Friday?" 

I get up to my feet, half-surprised to find myself steady. "Yeah, sure. Looking forward to it." I walk to the door, and turn to look at him again. "Thank you, doc. Today was... eye-opening." 

"I try." he answers wryly, and smiles. "You did really well today, Dan. Keep up the good work; I'll see you on Friday." 

With another curt nod, I leave his room and close the door quietly behind me. 

* 

* 

* 

Between the different handyman gigs that I manage to secure and my volunteering at the shelter, my schedule starts filling up. Still, I have some stretches of free time which I dedicate to online research, specifically on the topic of safe play during pregnancy. 

I know I'm getting ahead of myself; nothing's been decided yet. I know I may be setting myself up for a huge disappointment. A heartbreak. And yet I find myself googling away - thinking the NSA would have a field day intercepting my search terms, like "making a pregnant sub squirt" - reading up blogs, pouring over lifestyle community websites, clipping and pasting important tips and notes into an ever-growing file saved to my computer for easy access. 

Most of it relates to later stages of pregnancy, where the woman's growing belly makes it harder to get into or hold some positions. Overall, the general message seems to focus on using common sense: don't do impact play right on the belly. Make sure blood flow and airways are not obstructed, as that may cause stress to the baby. Pay extra-close attention to your sub's physical reactions and immediately stop your play with any sign of cramping, vaginal bleeding, hyperventilation, or fainting. Be sure to keep her well-hydrated, as dehydration may cause the onset of early labor. Remember hormonal changes may bring with them emotional changes; communicate more often, re-discuss your limits at close intervals, check in regularly within session. Plan for more frequent bathroom breaks. 

Some of these articles are accompanied by pictures; a few feature videos. One such image of a very pregnant subbie, bound to a St. Andrew's cross, her huge belly protruding, being made to cum by her Hitachi-wielding Dom, keeps playing in my head. I imagine Sandra just like that... face flushed and sweaty, curves exaggerated with pregnancy, nipples dark and large and dripping milk, vulva huge and swollen, clit peeking out, red and throbbing... pleading with me as I make her squirt over and over again... 

Fuck. I am hard now, but jerking off holds surprising little appeal at the moment. I want to play tonight. I want to give her more, show her more... slowly, a plan starts to take shape in my head. 

* 

* 

* 

It's just past 8pm, and we're snuggled on her sofa after dinner. She's lying on her side, her head in my lap facing away from me. I play absently with her hair and she rubs her cheek against my thigh in response, like a contented kitten. So sweet. I'm torn inside. On the one hand, I am burning to play; I have planned a special session for us that I know she'd love, and I can't wait to start. On the other hand, we haven't yet talked any more about her pregnancy and the decision that needs to be made. We said we'd give it a week, and half of that had already passed. Can I really ignore it for now? 

No. Of course not. We can't have this unspoken HUGE issue hanging between us in session. I sigh deeply, and Sandra rolls over to her back, her eyes seeking and holding onto mine. 

"You wanna talk?" she asks, guessing at my mood, and I nod. "Yeah." 

"Okay... So, how was it with Dr. Pappas?" 

"Good. Very good. He said he was confident I wasn't going to hurt you. In fact, he showed me." 

"Showed you? How?" she's intrigued now, her eyes glinting up at me. 

"Well..." I'm embarrassed, but she looks at me insistently. I concede. "He did this exercise with me where he had me play out the scenario of you..." I choke the words out. "of you getting an - an abortion. Like, really imagining it, how I'd be sitting there in the clinic waiting for you to come out, knowing you were having it done right then..." Try as I might to keep my voice neutral, a shudder runs down my back as I re-live it - if not as vividly as this morning - in my head. "He asked how I'd feel the moment you came out the door. What I'd think, what I'd say or do." 

She looks at me apprehensively, but says nothing, just waiting for me to continue. I try to smile, needing to reassure her, and also to hide my unease at my own too-emotional response. 

"What I felt while 'waiting' there for you was just... sorrow. Sadness. Grief." She just looks at me soberly, her eyes wide, waiting for me to continue. "But when I imagined you walking through the door, all I could feel was fear - for you. I was afraid something was wrong and they didn't realize it. I imagined sitting you down and getting upset about them letting you up and about so quickly, wanting to have you stay for observation... it was a little ridiculous, to tell you the truth." 

Her tight nervousness softens into a smile, which then crumbles a moment later into a choked sob. "That's - that's so sweet!" And then she bursts up in tears. 

My abdomen clenches painfully. Shit. I really hate seeing her cry. "Shh... please don't cry baby... I didn't mean to make you cry. Shh..." I lean down to gather her close in my arms, and she shakes her head against my chest. Inexplicably I think I hear a chuckle in there between her sobs. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 10



Author's note: 

Thank you to my co-creator and editor, the Brit. 

In previous chapters: 

Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra. 

Their relationship grew gradually, until finally they became lovers. Dan was reluctant to dominate Sandra, but with his shrink's blessing they did start playing. It was all fun and games, until he forgot the condom in the heat of the moment... 

Now Sandra is pregnant, and some big decisions need to be made. Dan wants her to keep the baby, but Sandra isn't sure - so for now, they've agreed to give it more time and thought. 

In this chapter: building trust in play - but is it enough? 

~~~~~~~ 

She wants to play, too. 

Her willingness, her need for me, for this, even with that yet-to-be-made decision looming dark in the background, means the world to me. Gratitude and need churn in my belly.. I'm going to make this one so good for her. I'm going to give her a taste of one of her wishlist items; one I told her I won't be able to. But I've thought of a way to make it work... 

I've been playing this session in my head on-and-off for weeks; have thought of little else all day today, after I'd purchased my props. Still, I wasn't sure she'd be in the mood for actual play, things being as they were. Now, I cannot wait to start. 

"Go run a shower then, babygirl. I have some setting up to do." 

Her eyes light up. "Wow... setup? Really?!", she counters cheekily, her smile stretching across her upturned face, and I swear I can feel my heart swell in my chest. 

Who knew I'd love her sass so much? I think, but manage to contain my answering grin. This wouldn't be as much fun if I went all squishy-soft on her... 

"Are you questioning my instructions, babygirl?" I ask mildly instead. 

She gasps, "Oh, no sir!", and I chuckle and turn her by the shoulders so she is perfectly situated for my smarting, open-palm spank on her cotton-clad bottom. Sandra squeals and scurries quickly towards her bedroom; I hear the door to her bathroom open and close, followed by her shower head spray spurting to life. 

Good. 

Grabbing my bag I set out to work in her room, stripping her bed from all its blankets and pillows, folding and piling them all on the dresser instead. Then I move to take out my latest purchase from the bag: several coils of purple, soft cotton rope. 

I chuckle at my own choice of color. I know she'd appreciate it, would know I'd chosen it because it was her favorite. Plus, it's going to look sensational against her skin. 

Sandra's bed has no posts or bars to secure the ropes to, but that's not a problem - I've got enough rope to work with. Bending low, I tie one length of rope to the top left leg of her bed, then bring it up to lay it over the mattress, pointing towards the center. Moving to the next leg I repeat the process, working my way around the bed so that when I'm done there are four stretches of ropes laid out on her bed, forming an incomplete X-shape. 

I then move on to tie a ring knot at the end of each rope, using my own body to estimate the right measures. Working methodically it takes only a couple of minutes to complete the job, and then all that's left to do is place one firm cushion at the very center of the bed and cover it - as well as the ring knots - with a large, fluffy white towel fetched from her closet. 

If I play my part right, by the end of tonight this towel would be soaked. I feel my dick twitch inside my jeans at the thought. 

Taking a breath to calm myself I look around, then move on to the second part of my preparations. I pick up the pile of pillows and blankets from the dresser and carry it over to the living room, and dump them on the sofa. Next, I clear the two small nightstands on both ends of the bed, stuffing Sandra's book and her cell phone and charger into a drawer. From my bag I take out the half-dozen candles I bought, each filling its thick glass holder almost to the brim, and place them around the room, then finally light them up one by one. 

Soon, their light scent drifts and curls as it mixes with the cool breeze coming from the still-open window. I walk over and close it, then draw the curtains shut. The room is thrown into deep shadow, softened by bright circles of light around the flickering candles. 

I cannot wait to see her naked in this light. 

The shower stops running. 

Right. Just on time. 

I inhale deeply and then release the air slowly, letting my tension go with it, leaving pure excitement behind. My body feels charged, alive; my muscles ripple with energy. I flex and release my fingers to let some of it go, and when that's not enough I shake my arms, hard. Yeah, that's better. Phew. The door slides open. 

Sandra steps out of the shower completely naked, her wet hair brushed back from her flushed face, her smooth skin damp. She takes in the transformed ambiance in her bedroom, scanning the candles burning all around us, though my body blocks her bed from view. Her blue gaze lights up before it meets mine and darkens, her obvious desire mirroring my own. The air between us seems to crackle with expectation. 

"Come here, babygirl." My voice is low, thick; she smiles faintly and steps forward as I step back, then stop. She stands right in front of me, hands at her sides, chin up, shoulders back, breathing fast. She's excited. Knowing she needs this, wants this, makes my blood boil in urgency. At the same time, the added weight of responsibility centers me, stabilizes me as it settles low in my belly. 

Here we go. 

With a brief smile, I lift my hands to trail my fingertips lightly along her arms, and watch the goose-bumps flare on her skin in response. So pretty. 

"My beautiful babygirl." 

She smiles tentatively. I bend to place a light kiss on her lips. 

"Ready to play?" 

Sandra nods, and I level my look at her. "Words, babygirl. When in session, use your words to answer my questions." 

She nods. "Yes sir. I'm ready to play." 

I smile. "So am I." Taking her hand, I draw her over to the side of the bed. "Let's get you settled then. Up on the bed, on your back. Cushion under your hips." 

She turns to do as told but then hesitates, biting her lip, and looks from the bed to me with a deep frown on her face. "Um..." 

I raise an eyebrow questioningly, and she seems torn with some kind of internal debate, until finally she blurts out: "I - I thought you said rope was a hard limit for you?" 

My belly drops a little. Damn. I should have explained. Taking her hands in mine I squeeze them lightly, reassuringly. "It is. Well, it was - but I found a way to make it work." 

She raises her chin, still looking unconvinced. "How?" 

"I -" I start, then think again. "Here, let me show you." 

Turning her around to face the bed, I take out one of the ring knots from under the towel, gesturing for her to take it in her hands. She does, and then looks it over from all directions. 

"What - what am I looking at, exactly?" she asks, her tone still guarded. I step closer and take the rope from her hands, pulling hard at the ring on one end of the knot, and the long tail on the other. 

"It's called a ring knot. See? It won't tighten on you, no matter how hard you pull. Which means -" I tuck my thumb into my palm and wiggle my hand into it, and grab the rope above the knot. "Which means you get the sensation of being properly tied up, but at the same time -" Tucking again, I squeeze my hand out of the ring. "At the same time you can simply take your hand out if you need to. With your hands being smaller than mine, it would be even smoother." 

"Oh, I see..." 

Her voice sounds breezy, as if she'd just released her breath after holding it in for too long. I keep the small distance between us, keep watching her as she processes the idea in her head. Then she slips her hand into the ring, holds on to the knot, and pulls hard. That's right, babygirl. Check for yourself. She tugs the rope a few more times, and then slips her hand out, raising her face to me, and I'm thankful to see her smile growing ever wider with each passing heartbeat. 

"So, babygirl... would you like for me to tie you up and have my wicked way with you?" 

She giggles and nods enthusiastically. "Oh yes, please, I would, very much!" 

I laugh, too, feeling my anxiety melt away at her expectant tone. God, I love this woman. I shake my head and take a step closer, cup her face in my hands and kiss her slowly, sweetly. 

"Hmm. I'd like that very much, too." I murmur against her soft, pink, pouty lips. After one more quick taste I step back, needing a little space to gather my wits around me. For this to be as good as it can be between us, I have a role to play. I close my eyes and take a moment to regain my equilibrium. When I'm ready, I open them and re-focus on Sandra, who stands naked and expectant in front of me. I'd better not stall too damn long. 

"On the bed, then, babygirl. On your back, cushion under your hips." 

When she doesn't move immediately, just breathes in and stares at me with a soft smile, I fight my own grin, trying instead for a menacing scowl. "You had a good excuse to hesitate before, babygirl, Not anymore. If there isn't a very good reason for your behavior, young lady, I'd suggest you get your lovely ass on that bed, now." 

I swear her choked 'Oh, yes sir!' sounds suspiciously giggly, but then she turns to climb up on the bed, and the sight of her luscious behind wiggling enticingly so close to my face is enough to make me forget anything and everything except the need to bury myself deep inside her. 

I clench my fists and strive for composure while Sandra flips over and settles on top of the thick towel. The pillow causes her back to arch slightly and her pelvis to tilt, pushing her plump pussy up high, putting it on display for me. Without being told, she spreads her arms and legs wide and then relaxes into the bed, clearly waiting for me to make the next move. 

God, she's perfect. 

"Very good, babygirl. That's more like it. Now let's get you nice and tied, shall we?" 

She whimpers in response and my dick surges, even as I move to slip her right hand into the first ring knot. I note with satisfaction the fit is just right - loose enough for her to easily release herself, but still tight enough to provide the illusion of helplessness - and move on to her legs, then finally to her left wrist. When I'm done I step back, and the sight before me - Sandra naked and bound, spread-eagled by that purple rope, her hips pushed up invitingly, passion plain as day on her face - makes my heart slam hard in my chest. 

I grind my teeth. Focus, Dan. 

"How's that feel, baby?" My voice sounds hoarse, but I can't help it. 

Sandra tugs at the ropes, and a slow smile spreads on her flushed face. "It feels - gosh! It feels absolutely freakin' amazing. Just - I love it!" 

I nod. "I love it too, babygirl. You look incredible like that. Gorgeous." 

It's an effort to keep my voice calm, and I'm damned proud with myself for succeeding. Moving closer I lean one knee on the bed next to her torso, and let my fingertips caress her face lightly, moving slow and gentle down her throat, and along the middle of her beautiful, naked torso. Sandra's lips part to allow for her quickened breath, curling upwards as she watches me watching her. 

I don't try to hide my desire for her, and she soaks it up, her own eyes darkening, her cheeks colored by matching stains of blush. I can read her mind, right then. 'I'm sexy and I know it' is written all over her face, and I love it, love her for owning up to it, for reveling in her own body. 

Absolutely freakin' gorgeous. 

I continue the path towards her spread-open pussy but then avoid it, moving down one thigh instead towards her knee instead. She arches up into my touch and then slumps back when she realizes it won't be going where she wants it. I chuckle and repeat the journey up her body, then down again, moving in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. My touch is light, almost ticklish. I know she wants more, and thoroughly enjoy denying her. For now. 

"Don't be greedy, babygirl... patience is a virtue." 

She whimpers as she realizes my game, and at the same time her face softens into beautiful acceptance. I smile approvingly. 

"Now, here are the rules: first, while you can release yourself anytime you choose to, you may not do it - for any reason - other than for your safety. So if you want to be untied not because you feel you are at risk, but for any other reason - discomfort, whatever - you need to ask and wait for me to do that for you, okay?" 

"Yes sir." she answers softly. 

"Good. Now I'm going to blindfold you in a moment, and although I'm sure you'd be able to remove it even without using your hands, I'd like for you to keep it on, and if need be - ask me to remove it for you." 

Her eyes hold mine as she nods solemnly. "Okay." 

Holding her gaze I can see her questions and doubts rising. For a moment I consider letting her struggle through them on her own, but then again, I suspect it's too soon. For now, at least, it is my job to help her with them. I stretch out on my side, my body close to hers but not touching, and cup her smooth cheek in my palm as I hold her gaze with mine. 

"We need to practice trust, baby." I say quietly. "I need to see you speak up when there's anything wrong, and you need to see me taking care of it - of you - while we have that safety in place in case..." I stop, and am relieved to see her face clear as she nods slowly. 

"Yes, sir. I understand." She bites her lower lip, and then rushes forward - "do - do you want me to use any special safewords?" 

I consider her question. I know that I'd stop at any sign of distress, regardless of safewords. But I'm happy to practice using those, too. "Sure, let's go with the standard traffic lights - red and yellow. All right?" 

"I - yes, please." Her mouth curves slowly upwards as she smiles at me from under her lashes, and then her lips part to allow her tongue a quick lick across them, almost making me forget my line of thought. I resist the distraction, just barely. 

"Okay then. Red and yellow. Don't hesitate to use them, either. This is what practice is all about, okay?" 

Her grin widens. "Yes, sir!" her eyes crinkle in their corners, and then she bites her lip and looks me up and down, considering me for a heartbeat before catching my gaze with hers. "Um, may I use green, too?" 

I tilt my head, but nod. "Yeah, sure. Green is good." 

She giggles and then throws her head back and shouts up to the room - "GREEN! Please, please I am so freakin' green right now!" 

I burst out laughing even as I roll over to straddle her hips. As I straighten up and loom tall above her bound, spread form, my amusement quickly dissipates, replaced with thick, hard lust. I am still fully dressed with my jeans and T-shirt, only my feet are bare; she is utterly naked below me. I am bigger and stronger and completely in control, and by God, the sense of power is intoxicating. I stay there, keeping my weight on my own knees and my eyes locked with Sandra's, and breathe it in, let it wash over me, into me, fill me up, until I'm steadfast and centered. 

Yes... this is what it's all about. I look down at her, and slowly lean over and take her mouth in a slow, hot kiss. She welcomes my lips and my tongue, opens up to me, draws me in, arches up to try and rub her naked chest against my torso... I chuckle and draw back, all the way off her and up to my feet next to the bed. 

"Oh no, babygirl... we've only just started. Now, where's that pretty silk scarf of yours..." 

I turn to her dresser and find her lingerie drawer, figuring she may keep some other delicates there. Soon I find the long scrap of slippery lavender-colored silk... and under it, a real treasure. With a delighted chuckle, I grab it and turn around, waving the realistically-shaped, bright-purple silicone cock between us. 

"Well, well, well... what have we got here?" 

Sandra blushes beet-red and bites her lips, but then meets my eyes boldly. 

"Ehm, Dan, please meet my very close, loyal and long-time friend, Dylan the Dildo. Dylan, please meet Dan, my Dom. I hope you two will play nice together." 

My grin turns feral, exposing my teeth, even while internally I celebrate the title she had so easily chosen for me. "Tsk, tsk, tsk... still sassy, even when tied, spread-eagled and naked? I guess I'll need to do something about that, hmm?" 

She breathes in, "Yes, sir", as she takes in the unveiled need in my expression, and her cheekiness melts away, leaving her vulnerable and aroused and expectant before me. 

I take my time absorbing the sight of her. I've never seen her so beautiful. The candlelight flickers along her curves, accentuating their supple smoothness. With her hands tied up, her breasts are pushed higher on her chest, the shadows around them forming almost perfect circles while light accentuates their fullness, gleaming over her creamy globes. As my eyes roam her body, her dark-pink areolas tighten under my gaze, pushing her nipples out and up, begging to be touched. 

Not yet. 

I let my gaze trail lower, watching her midriff ripple with her excitement. Lower still, to her softly rounded belly, the darkened dip of her bellybutton rising and falling rhythmically, hypnotically... I watch it for a few more heartbeats until a gleam of moisture twinkles at me from between her spread thighs, pulling my attention there. 

The triangle of blond hair covering her venus hill is almost transparent, and just below it, her perfectly smooth labia are pulled a little open, revealing her inner lips, red-pink and swollen, and her tight opening, already coated with her sweet-smelling girl juice. 

My dick, swollen and heavy, tries to push itself out of my jeans, but I ignore it. My need to control Sandra, to play her body and her mind, to take her places she'd never been before - it is far, far greater than my need to just fuck her. 

I breathe deep and slow, let that buzz flow through me, bring every cell in my body alive. 

Sandra whimpers softly and arches her back, and I look up into her flushed face, and shake my head, softly admonishing her. 

"Shh... lie still, babygirl." 

She pouts a little, but does as she's told. I smile approvingly and finally move closer to kneel on the bed. I place the dildo on her torso, nestled in the valley between her breasts, and then hold her silk scarf in both my hands. 

"Raise your head, babygirl." 

She does, and I tie the scarf over her eyes, knotting it loosely under her, not wanting any uncomfortable lump to annoy her. 

"There, how's that feel?" I ask when I finish arranging the silk folds over her eyes to make sure she is properly blindfolded. 

"Ohh... feels good, sir. Thank you." She says softly, not a trace of sass remaining in her tone. 

God, she submits so beautifully. I smile in awed satisfaction, knowing she can't see me. Out loud, I answer - "mmm. Good. Now, you mentioned you hoped I'd include Dylan in our play, didn't you?" 

"Uh-huh - oh, yes sir!" She nods enthusiastically and I chuckle as I pick up the heavy, purple toy and start trailing it around her breasts. Sandra responds by arching up, and I withdraw, denying her contact. 

"No... lie still, remember?" 

"Oh - yes sir." Immediately she relaxes back onto the bed. "Sorry." 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 10



"Hmm. That was your warning, babygirl. Next time you arch up, there will be consequences." 

She gasps, and then smiles. "Yes sir." 

We've played this game before. She'd made me spank her pussy over and over again, by deliberately and repeatedly breaking my 'no moving' rule. This time, however, it's not her pussy I'm going to spank. We'll see if she likes that... 

I bring the dildo to her smiling mouth, trail it along her lips. She smiles wider and her tongue comes out to lick along the silicone shaft, making it glide more easily with each passing. I watch, entranced, as her tongue glides lovingly along the fake cock. Fuck. So sexy. 

Changing angles, I rest the fat purple head on her stretched-out tongue, and nudge forward. Sandra takes the hint and opens wide, taking a couple of inches into her mouth before hollowing her cheeks and starting to suck for real. 

I swear I can feel it in my dick, too. I breathe hard, grit my teeth, and fuck her mouth deeper with the toy. Then, abruptly, I stop and pull out - mostly because I know I'd explode in my pants if I continue - and then glide the toy down her throat to her breasts, and gently roll its wet tip around one nipple, then the other, painting them with her saliva. 

I can see Sandra straining against the ropes holding her arms as she struggles not to move, and smile down at her. Though she can't see me, I know she can hear my approval in my voice: 

"Good girl... stay still." 

I keep teasing her nipples too lightly a few more times, and then bring the dildo back to her lips for more lubrication. "Suck." 

Fucking her mouth slowly again with the toy, I look down at her body. I want to touch her so bad; I know she wants me to touch her, too. Looking between her thighs I can see her squeezing her pussy onto itself, a tiny trickle of moisture seeping down between her ass cheeks... 

Not yet. 

This time, when I pull the fake dick out of her wet lips and then circle her nipple lightly with it, she arches up high. "Oh please, please...!" 

I pull it away from her body, only to return sharply a moment later, spanking the underside of her breast with her own dildo. 

"Ahh, yessss..." 

Sandra sinks back, as if absorbing the impact for a moment, and then pushes her breasts up, arching right off the bed, clearly asking for more. 

I chuckle and oblige, spanking her other breast just a little harder, watching it jiggle up and down from the impact, then bloom with a light-pink stripe to match the one already decorating its twin. I rub my palm lightly across both, then squeeze each in turn, firmly. Sandra sighs, and when I remove my hand she arches her back high again. 

"I take it you're green, babygirl?" 

"Oh yes I'm green, please, I'm absolutely green - OH!" 

I start raining sweet lashes all over her plentiful mounds. The dildo makes a perfect implement to spank her breasts with - thick and heavy, long enough for me to get a good grip, but short enough to keep perfect aim, with just a little give and that soft silicone cover to make sure I don't accidently bruise her. Time seems to melt away as I focus on delivering her body the treatment it so obviously craves. Sandra moans and squirms at times, but whenever I take a break she pushes her chest high again, silently asking for more. 

Gradually, I increase the force behind each impact, causing her flushed breasts to jiggle wildly on each impact. Sweat beads on her forehead and her upper lip, as well as on her throat and chest. I slow my pace, but keep going. Sandra's breasts look swollen, and there's a deep pink circle all around each breast, indicating the area where the heavy toy had struck them. Her nipples stand in attention, but I don't strike them directly, just keep going around them. 

Sandra's moans turn into a deeper groan, and I can tell the pain had now settled deeper. This time, when I break, she keeps her back flat against the bed - even trying to nestle into it, it seems - and I know she's had enough. 

But this session isn't just about play; it's also about practice - and I need more from her just then. Carefully, not wanting to hurt her, but needing to make my point, I trail the cool head of her purple dildo over her burning skin. She flinches at the touch, but remains silent. 

"What's your color now, babygirl?" 

"I - oh! Yellow, sir. I'm yellow. I'm sorry... I need a break... I'm sorry..." 

"Shh... that's okay, babygirl... it's okay..." I let the dildo drop to the bed next to her body. Reaching up, I push her blindfold away to look into her distraught eyes, which are now brimming with tears. 

"See? You just need to tell me, and I stop. Nothing to be sorry about. Nothing at all, baby..." 

Still holding her gaze, I lean over to take her lips in a soft kiss, just to show her that it's really okay. But when I'm about to pull back Sandra sighs and opens her mouth, her tongue inviting me in. Unable to ignore her request, I take her up on it - deepening the kiss, relishing the tang of her tears that spices up her utter sweetness. 

After a few long moments I finally withdraw, then look down at her poor, reddened breasts, and up to her eyes. "Let's make you feel all green again, shall we?" 

She smiles tentatively and nods. Reaching over to her dresser, I fish around until I find what I'm looking for, and pull out her hand cream. "Hmm, this should do... let's see." 

Taking a generous glob of cream, I rub my hands a bit to spread it evenly between them, and then bring my palms to Sandra's breasts, gently. The touch of cool cream against her inflamed skin must feel good, because Sandra first inhales sharply and then exhales slowly, and relaxes into my touch, closing her eyes in blissful surrender. 

I glide my slippery hands all around her flushed, swollen breasts, aiming to soothe, rather than ignite her passion. But after a few gentle strokes Sandra moans and opens her eyes. 

"God that feels good..." 

Smiling, I bend down to blow some air over her cream-covered skin, chilling it further. Sandra shudders and her nipples crinkle and tighten right in front of my eyes, and before I make any conscious decision my fingers already close around them, rolling each reddish, hard peak between thumb and forefinger, tweaking and pulling on them lightly. 

"Oh my gosh!" Sandra squeals, and arches her back high. 

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, how quickly she forgets." I mumble, though I know she can hear me because her eyes widen just before she feels my fingers squeeze her nipples, hard. 

"Arrggghhh!" 

Sandra grunts at the brief pain, but then her face softens when my fingers relax their grip, going back to their light, teasing play, pleasuring her. This time I can see her arm muscles flex as she pulls hard at her ropes, fighting her need to move. 

"Good girl." I smile, and reward her by bending to blow more cool air onto her skin, and then move to lick and suck on each nipple in turn. I can feel a fine tremor in her body as she struggles with herself, willing her body to keep still under my touch. 

God, I love this. Having her like that, completely at my mercy, submitting to my will... 

I suck harder, taking more of her breast into my mouth. Sandra whimpers and I know the pleasure is now tinged with residual pain as her abused tissues are pulled into play, but I keep going. I trust she'd safeword if need be this time around. I release her breast and catch her disappointed sigh before taking the other into my mouth, and she squeals again. 

I want to make her cum like that, riding the line of pain and pleasure. 

The thought makes me hot. Too hot. I almost tear my t-shirt off my body, throwing it carelessly behind my back. When I find Sandra's eyes again, they are devouring my body with as much greed as mine do hers. I smile wickedly. That's tough, babygirl. I'm the one who calls the shots here. 

My hand starts the journey down her body while my mouth covers her breast again. I stroke down her soft, quivering belly, move to squeeze her inner thigh, teasing us both by avoiding her pussy for a few seconds longer. I can feel its damp heat calling me, begging me to claim it. I let Sandra's breast pop out of my lips momentarily as I prop myself up on one arm, needing to watch my own actions as finally, slowly, I move my hand to her center. 

My fingers rub along her smooth labia, all the way down to her clenched hole, then all the way up to her clit, then back, deeper this time, my middle finger sinking into her sleek, open slit, sucked right into her tight tunnel. 

We both gasp. I push all the way in, almost losing my head when her inner muscles squeeze all around my thick digit. Unwilling to give her any power over me - not right now - I pull out to tease around her opening, and then focus a few moments on that soft spot just above it that I'd learned could drive her crazy. Only then, when I feel her melt under my touch, do I move my finger another half-inch and start rubbing tight, hard circles over her clit. 

Sandra throws her head back and cries out in pleasure. Bringing my forearm under her stretched shoulder, I fist my fingers inside the hair at her nape to keep her arched like that, while my mouth goes back to feast on her breasts, half-pleasing, half-tormenting her. At the same time, my fingers continue working her clitoris, edging her ever closer to her climax. 

There's nothing for Sandra to do now but take it, take every sensation that I'm giving her and absorb it in her tied, spread-eagled, immobile body. She struggles a little - not trying to release herself, but more like verifying her bonds are really there, holding her in place. Her hands are fisted around the knots holding her rings in place, and she pulls the ropes down toward her head from time to time, although there's very little give in them, so it only serves to stretch her whole body up. 

Her legs flex repeatedly but are kept spread wide, her toes curling and uncurling in time to my fingers rubbing her clit, and she keeps trying to move her head from side to side, but it only serves to increase the pull of her hair. Sandra keeps doing it anyways, moaning deeply every time she does. Her eyes are tightly shut, her mouth is open, and her cheeks are flushed red - as is her whole body. 

I've never wanted a woman more in my life. 

I can feel her orgasm building in her body, the tension mounting in every cell. Releasing her breast, I take the other one in my mouth and suck it deep, knowing her abused flesh would protest, but also knowing that, at this point, her pleasure would outweigh the pain; would in fact only deepen for it. 

Her breath hitches in her throat and I feel a gush of heat soak my fingers just before she bucks and cries out - 'fuck, fuck, fuck!' - and then she strains into my fingers, as if suspended in time for a few long moments while I keep stroking hard and quick. She's so wet that thick drops of her juice splash out from my furious rubbing, dampening her thighs and soaking into the towel below. I hiss in triumph. Yesss! Finally, Sandra shudders and slumps back with another whiney 'oh, fuck...' and I slow down, reducing the pressure on her still throbbing clit, but keep going as long as her body continues to spasm, until she finally settles back, her chest still heaving. 

I still my fingers and release her hair, and watch her roll her neck lightly from side to side, a slow smile stretching across her sweaty face. Leaving her pussy, I trail my wet fingers up her body and all the way to her face, then rub them gently across her lips. She smiles wider and opens her eyes, and holding my gaze, she sucks and licks them clean, apparently enjoying her own taste on my skin. I let her have her fun for a few moments, and then move them more purposefully into her mouth, now clearly fucking it with my two middle fingers. 

Sandra's eyes widen slightly and then darken, and she sucks deeper still, bobbing her head back and forth. 

"What's your color, babygirl?" I ask, although I know the answer. I pull my fingers out of her mouth, move back to glide them along her drenched pussy. 

"Oh fuck I'm so green right now, sir!" 

I smile. "Good." moving back, I get off the bed to stand up, and then look down at her. She stares back expectantly. Walking around to the foot of the bed, I carefully release Sandra's legs from the ropes holding them in place. She seems a little disappointed, but doesn't protest, and I nod to her with a little smile. 

"Raise your hips, babygirl." 

Sandra groans deeply when she plants her feet against the bed and pushes her hips up, only now realizing how stiff her legs had become. I pull the cushion out from under her, and then cup her cheek with my hand, looking into her eyes. 

"Sore, babygirl?" 

She bites her lip, and answers truthfully. "Just a little... my muscles aren't used to this, I guess?" 

"Hmm... let's switch you into a different position, then. Can you turn onto your belly?" 

She does, awkwardly, crossing her still-bound wrists above her head in the process. 

"Good. Now can you get up on your knees and elbows?" 

"Mm-hmm" comes her muffled reply, before she pushes up to take the position, moaning again as her muscles pull and flex, adjusting to it. 

"Good girl." I move up, and seeing her wrists are still crossed, I pull her higher on the bed so that the ropes relax, allowing her to part her arms and lean them straight from elbow to palm on the bed. The ring knots simply lie now atop the backs of her hands. She could slip her hands out easily anytime, but she hadn't - and even now, she makes no move to do so. 

Because she wants this. She wants you to dominate her. She wants to submit to you. 

On fire for her now, my movements grow sharp. I grab the cushion and shove it over her arms, so that she can rest her forehead or her cheeks against it. I know I'm going to be rough - there's no way I could go gentle now - and I don't want to worry about rope burns to her face. 

Stepping back, I finally shuck my pants and boxers. My dick springs free, and my hand goes to it, giving it a long-overdue squeeze. God, I need to fuck her so bad. Moving onto the bed I settle on my knees behind Sandra. My cock rests heavily along the crease of her ass, and she wiggles back against me. My hands come down hard, spanking her sharply on both cheeks, and then I grab her hips to keep them from moving. 

Sandra shrieks, then giggles, and buries her head in the pillow that covers her arms. 

"What part of 'stay still' didn't you understand, babygirl?" I growl, and she giggles again. "M'sorry, sir!" she says, and then adds - "I'm trying, but it's soooo hard not to move..." 

Her tone - not even a tiny bit contrite - tells me all I need to know. She wants it rough. She wants me to spank her while I fuck her, doggy style, with her arms still tied with my rope. 

With one hand I fist my dick, and with the other I control her hips as I rub my head and shaft along her juicy folds several times, gathering lubrication. She wiggles again, and I spank her - several quick, open-palm spankings to each side, before I grab her ass, using my thumbs to spread her wide, and then sink my dick slowly all the way in. 

Feeling her hot, slick inner folds stretch and slide all around me while watching my shaft disappear inside her body, inch by slow inch, it is all I can do to breathe deep and hold onto my control. 

And then she wiggles her ass at me. Again. 

My voice is almost unrecognizable. "You want it rough, babygirl? You want me to spank your ass, to hurt you while I fuck you? 

"Mmm... yes please, sir!" 

Damn. I should probably teach her a lesson about topping from the bottom... But my speed picks up and my spankings start ringing in the quiet, candle-lit room, even as the thought passes briefly through my lust-filled mind. 

Another time. Right now, this is what I want, too, and by God, I'm going to take it. 

My speed alternates between wild, mad fucking, slapping my pelvis against her ass, my balls against her swollen labia, and then slow and deliberate, allowing me better aim as I spank her hips and outer thighs, coloring them a pretty pink. Her pussy keeps dripping and clenching around me as she gets close, and I want to keep going until she cums again, but soon I feel my control slip, and I know this time I won't be slowing down. 

Leaning forward, I search for Sandra's right hand under the cushion. When I find it, I tug it down, speaking urgently in her ear. 

"Take your hand out of the ring, babygirl. I want you to make yourself cum again." 

Sandra's only response is a soft whimper, and then a moment later her hand emerges from under the pillow and she takes it into her mouth, wetting her fingers before moving straight to her pussy, rubbing between her folds focusing on her protruding, swollen clit. 

I lean back on my shins and watch her masturbate for me, spanking her as I do, adding heat and color to every part of her upturned ass. Then her movements become more frantic and I cannot keep away for another goddamned second. Taking my thick, throbbing, steel-hard dick in my hand I place its swollen head right at her entrance and then drive myself slowly, fully inside. 

"Keep going, babygirl. I want to feel you cum all around me." 

Her fingers, which had stilled before, go back to work. Sinking my own thumbs into her fleshy bottom, I hold her securely in place while I pull back and then plow in once more, then back and again, growing harder and faster with every stroke until I'm pumping into her so fast my hips look like a blur of movement. 

The pleasure is all-consuming. My eyes are closed shut, and I'm only vaguely aware of Sandra's muted cry and the gush of liquid heat as her channel squeezes hard, pulsating around me. I feel the familiar rush of tingling down my spine, engulfing my balls and then rushing up my shaft to explode in utter bliss deep inside her body, filling her with spurt after spurt of my thick, hot cum. 

"Oh fuck, jeez, fuck..." 

I'm not sure who utters the words, all I know is my head is spinning with pleasure and my lungs scream for air as I fold over her, trembling, sweat dripping from my face onto her back. 

I reach my hand and rub the little droplets into Sandra's own damp skin, and at my light touch she shudders and lets her knees slide out from under her, slumping onto her belly, legs still spread wide, with me kneeling in between them. I move over her to lie down on my side next to her, and rub soothingly up and down her back, then further down, along her spanked ass and hips, taking care over the sensitive spots. 

After a while, when she still hasn't moved, I ask gently - "you okay, babygirl?" 

She nods a sleepy 'mm-hmm' into the pillow, and I release the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. 

"Wait right here." I say quietly, and get up to pad over to the shower. I give myself a 10-second wash, then grab a washcloth, wet it, and return to the bed. Sandra is still in the same position I'd left her; I carefully wipe clean the mess between her spread thighs, and then nudge her shoulder. 

"Hey, wanna roll over, baby? Or are you comfortable like that?" 

"M'good" she says, and I mumble an 'okay' as I get up to toss the washcloth in the laundry basket, blow all the candles off, crack her window open to let some cool air filter in, and then walk over to her living room to return the pile of pillows and blankets I'd deposited there back to her bed. 

When I'm back, though, she'd flipped onto her back, her head now resting on the pillow - and her left wrist still inside the ring. Something surges inside me. If I hadn't just cum, i'd fuck her again, right now. 

Instead, I take my time rearranging her bed and shaking out her fluffy blanket, letting it float down to cover her up to her chin. Finally I crawl back into bed and lie down on my side next to her, lean in to give her lips a small kiss, and then draw back to look into her eyes. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 10



"You may release yourself from the rope now, babygirl." 

Sandra smiles at me. "Yes, sir" she says sweetly as she slips her hand out of the ring, and then brings it up to caress my face softly, pulling me into her kiss once more. When we finally draw apart, our gazes lock. 

"Thank you for tonight, Dan. I - I needed this. I needed you, us - like this." 

I nod. "Me, too." Settling onto my back, I pull Sandra over to rest her head on my shoulder, pressing her soft body all along mine. Her hand lies limply on my chest, the pink indentations of rope around her wrists still clearly visible. I pick up her hand to kiss her there, feel her pulse flutter, then tuck her hand back right over my heart, hug her close, and kiss the crown of her head. 

"I love you, Sandra." I murmur into her hair. 

"I love you too, Dan." She mumbles back, and gives me a small squeeze. 

I nod, and fall quiet. Even as she drifts off, I find it hard to fall asleep, myself. Tonight was everything I'd hoped it to be. But would it be enough, when decision time comes? 

I don't know. 

Without conscious thought, I go back to my breathing meditation, focusing my attention on the cool air flowing in through my nostrils, the warm air that tickles my lips on the way out. 

I try to stay optimistic. Tonight was good. It may not have been enough to make up her mind for her, but it had to be a step in the right direction. 

Trust and hope, Dan. With that thought, I close my eyes, and let my own fatigue claim me. 

* 

* 

* 

Sandra had left for her morning shift before sunrise. A couple of hours later I, too, am ready to start my day of volunteering at the Shelter. Now that school is back in full swing, a few of the older kids had come to me, asking for help in setting up space to do their homework. Since there is no free room in the building to convert into a 'study', I'd suggested setting up hinged, folding desks in each of the bedrooms, along with folding chairs, so that they don't take extra space while not in use. 

After gaining the administrator's approval, I'd started on the project. It only took a single visit to convince the local woodshop owner, Mr. Stratis, to sponsor the shelter: he owed me from a few years back, when I'd happened to be in the right place, at the right time to save his shop from burning to the ground. Some juvies were playing with firecrackers on the street next door, and I'd swung by in my patrol car at the moment one of those crackers landed on the shop's roof. I'd grabbed the small fire distinguisher from my car and had climbed up the back ladder; luckily, I'd managed to put it out even before the firetruck arrived at the scene. 

It didn't seem like much to me - I really was just doing my job - but Mr. Stratis kept telling me he was indebted whenever we bumped into each other, which had happened several times, given the size of our town. I'd never taken advantage of it, but asking for the Shelter was different, and Mr. Stratis was all too happy to oblige. 

So, with the wood, hardware, and few necessary tools provided for, I'd started on the project. Each kid got their pile of raw material, and together we'd designed, cut, sanded, built and painted those desks and chairs. The second coat of paint had just been added a couple of days ago, and today was going to be the day it all came together, when each kid got to hang their own desk and their own chair on their own wall, and show it off to their family and friends. 

I couldn't be more proud of them, and was looking forward to celebrate their success with them. Giving these kids a sense of accomplishment and capability was just as important as teaching them these skills, if not more so. 

I'm just done shutting all the windows and lights in Sandra's apartment getting ready to leave when loud, decisive knocks on the other side of her front door, stop me in my tracks. 

"Sandra? You there? It's Lucas. Open up, sis. We need to talk. It's urgent." 

Shit. 

There can be only one reason for him to be here, with that particular undertone of anguished concern in his voice. 

He knows. 

An unsettling sense of deja-vu washes over me. It's only been a few months since that awful night at my own apartment, when Jon had come over looking to beat me up. Then, too, I realized even before opening the door that he knew. 

I'd welcomed Jon's arrival on that fateful night, had believed I'd deserved every misery he'd planned on delivering. By that point I had already downed every pill I could find at my place with a half bottle of frozen Vodka; I'd figured whatever he did to me would simply serve to speed up the process I'd already set in motion. 

But the fates had interfered, and I'd survived. Today, however, is different. I'm different. And while I can understand why Lucas would feel worried and protective of his little sister, I have no intention of becoming his human punching bag. 

Nonetheless, I do need to face him. And somehow, I'll need to find a way to avoid getting hurt - without hurting him in the process. Damn. This is going to be tricky. 

I take a moment to center myself, and then reach to open the door. 

Lucas's deep frown clears as the door starts to open, and then turns thunderous when he realizes it isn't his little sister who'd opened the door, but me. Mr. Evil. 

"You!" he growls furiously, and I can see his arm swing back as if in slow-motion. 

I side-step just in time, and his blow catches my right shoulder, which I twist back in sync with his fist's motion in order to minimize the impact. It still hurts, but not nearly as much as it was meant to. Taking a couple of steps back I raise my arms in front of my face, ready to defend myself from his next strikes. 

None come. 

Lucas still looks like he's ready to kill me, leaning forward with his fists clenched, ready to pummel into me. But then, he doesn't. He huffs and puffs through his nose and he makes a couple of threatening moves with his feet and his body, but he doesn't actually strike me. 

Finally, he releases a few chosen expletives in a heated, low voice, and then throws his hands up in the air and turns his back on me, tunneling his fingers through his hair, clearly struggling for control. When he'd regained some of it he turns back to meet my guarded eyes with his scathing look. 

"You have some nerve." His voice oozes contempt. 

I raise my chin at him, but say nothing. I am not gonna get into this fight with Sandra's brother. My silence seems only to aggravate him further. 

"What, no tall stories to tell me this time? No fancy tales about the hero cop injured in the line of duty?" 

I'd never said that, of course. All I told him was that I was injured when I took a bad fall, was out on medical leave, and wasn't likely to be reinstated. An abbreviated version of the truth. But again, I don't see the point of debating it right now. I might as well have lied. 

Lucas takes a threatening step in my direction. I keep firm as he gets very close, our eyes locked together. "I know exactly what you did," his voice is low and strained now as he almost spits the words in my face. "Now you leave my sister alone, you hear me? She doesn't need any scumbag losers like you in her life." 

I swallow hard. His words ring true, too close to comfort. And yet, things are different now. 

Loser or not, Sandra does need me in her life right now. She's pregnant with my baby. Leaving her alone is not an option. 

But I cannot say all that to Lucas. 

"That's for your sister to decide." I answer instead, my voice strained but steady. 

His anger flares. "The hell it is! Get out of here, you hear?! GET OUT! And never come anywhere near her again, or I'll have you arrested - after I tell her exactly who and what you are, understand?!" 

I stiffen my back, and with effort, keep my voice low. "This is your sister's house, and I am her guest. If anyone is going to kick me out, it's her; not you." 

Lucas's fists clench again at his sides, and I resist taking a step back - although I'm ready to do so if he swings at me. 

"Oh, she'll kick you out, all right. Do you think she'll keep you around once she knows who you really are?! Oh no, no way in HELL she won't. My sister is smarter than that; you're history. You should do yourself a favor and leave before this mess blows up in your face. By the time I'm done with you everybody will know what you did." Lucas sneers at me distastefully. I feel my temper rising and resolutely push it down, striving for control. 

"Sandra already knows everything." 

That gives him pause. "What?!" 

"She knows what I did to Naomi in New York. I told her." 

Lucas stares at me, disbelief widening his eyes, before anger and suspicion narrow them to narrow slits. "You told Sandra that you assaulted your ex-wife? You told her you stalked your ex for days; that when you found her you beat her up so bad she was bruised for days later? You told Sandra that you tied and gagged your ex, that you tried to rape her?" 

With each ugly, terribly truth he steps closer to me, until that final accusation is delivered right in my face. I feel bile rise to burn my throat, cold sweat break on my face and chest, slickening my palms. I fight to push the panic down, fight to keep from succumbing to it. This is too important. I cannot just curl into a fetal position and wait it out. I grind my teeth so hard my jaw hurts. 

Lucas's mouth twists into a hateful snarl as my silence stretches, and I know I need to speak up, or he'll try to hit me again. With effort, I push my words through my stiff lips. 

"Yeah. I told her everything. In gruesome detail. She knows exactly what I did. The damage I'd caused. She knows just how low I'd sunk. She knows how badly I hurt Naomi. She knows, and she still wants me in her life.." 

Lucas stares at me in stunned silence. I can see his chest muscles twitching under his T-shirt, but he doesn't move. 

Then after several long, strained moments he exhales long and loud, and I can almost see the fight escape his muscles, leaving him depleted. 

"Dammit to hell, I don't get it. I just don't get it." he mumbles, and moves past me to plop himself onto the padded single chair standing behind me in the living room. 

I follow him inside and sit myself at the edge of the sofa, facing him, leaning forward with my forearms on my knees. "Yeah. You and me both, to be honest." 

Lucas looks at me through narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure me out. Finally he shakes his head in defeat. "I don't get her, but then I don't get you, either." 

Oh. 

"How do you mean?" 

Lucas's gaze sharpens on my face, and his mouth thins grimly. "Well for one, you don't look like a wife beater. You seem... like a normal dude." 

I wince, but then retort dryly. "Were you expecting horns and a tail? " 

He shakes his head in annoyance. "I don't know. I don't know what I was expecting. A denial, probably. Or some lame excuses. Not - not this." 

I look down at my clenched hands. "I wish I could deny it. But I can't. And I have no excuse." 

My curt response is met with silence that stretches for several long, strained minutes. I can't bring myself to look Lucas in the eyes, so I keep mine fixed on the floor, until finally his pained voice breaks the uncomfortable standoff. 

"That's just not good enough, Dan." 

Meeting his gaze, I know he's right. Sandra's family deserve more than a shrug and and 'it's none of your business' attitude from me. They love her, and they have every right to be worried. If I'm to have any kind of long-term relationship with her, it would be on me to make them understand. 

"You're right." I say, and then, grimly, I venture into the only explanation I have: the truth. 

"I was in a very dark place in my mind three months ago. I'd been depressed for a long time. It had started a couple of years ago and then at some point I'd started spiraling down faster, until finally I'd just - snapped, I guess." I raise my head to look straight at him. "I had a full-blown mental episode. A major one." 

Lucas just stares at me, and then his jaw tightens and I rush forward before he can interrupt me. "That doesn't excuse what I did, I know. The way I hurt Naomi - my ex-wife..." My voice is strained, my throat clogged with that ever-present lump of shame. With effort, I push through it. "Not a day goes by that I don't regret it. All I can say is, I am trying my best to get better. I'm working my ass off to make sure it never happens again." 

Lucas shakes his head, his face grim. "That sounds rough, Dan, and I'm sorry for you, but still, that's not nearly good enough. I appreciate your honesty; I really do. But my sister deserves better. She deserves better than you." 

I nod. "Yeah. She does. So I guess that means I'll spend the rest of my life bettering myself, for her." 

Lucas's head snaps back. "The rest of your life? Are you crazy?!" 

I just hold his gaze, and see color once more flush his high cheeks. "That is a load of BS! You've just met. You can't seriously be talking about anything long-term. Sandra would never make a rash decision like that, she's much too level-headed for that. Not unless -" 

He stops when he sees the the guilt on my face. At first he shakes his head in denial, but then his eyes narrow and zoom on me and I can see the wheels turning in his head, until - 

"Oh, God, no. Please... No." 

He shoves his hands through his hair, looking at me almost pleadingly. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me it's not what I'm thinking, Dan. Tell me you didn't..." 

I don't say anything, just stare at him mutely and watch his emotions - hurt and disappointment, fear and frustration - chase each other on his face, darkening his eyes and tightening his features into a rigid mask. 

"God help me, but I should have killed you when you first opened the door. I still should." His words may be menacing, but his tone is defeated, and he doesn't make any move towards me. I feel a strange urge to console him. 

"Too late. I've already tried that. It didn't work." 

He stares at me, clearly not following. I feel my lips twist in self-mockery. 

"I tried killing myself when I - when the knowledge of what I'd done to Naomi sunk in. And then Jon - my partner, my best friend - he came over and beat me down to a pulp, pretty much." I chuckle humorlessly. "Which is, incidentally, how I got to meet Sandra - the concussion landed me in the Neuro ward - so I guess, in a way, I should be thankful. I am thankful. Sandra - she..." I blink at the sudden tears in my eyes, and swallow them down, hard. 

"She probably saved my life. And not just physically speaking, either. She - she somehow got me, you know? She was the one to pick up on my injuries being partially the result of a suicide attempt. She insisted on getting me a psyche consult. She helped me see some light at the end of the tunnel during those first few weeks, when all I wanted to do was just dig myself into a hole and die." 

I shake my head. "I don't really get it. I honestly don't know why she cared so much. But she did. And it made all the difference in the world to me." 

Lucas is quiet for a long moment - so long that it starts to freak me out. Finally he coughs and speaks hoarsely: "I - I do. I know why she cared." 

Air gets caught painfully in my chest. "What?! - I mean, why?" 

He doesn't answer right away, and I can see his jaw working hard under his taut skin. He clenches and unclenches his fists, and I have a feeling he's debating whether or not to get up and leave. But then he reaches his decision and his body calms down somewhat when he looks me in the eye. 

"Our younger sister - Helena - she tried to kill herself and her baby girl about eight months ago." 

His words strike me right in the chest, leaving me gasping for air. "What?! Helena -" I shake my head, speechless. I'd just met Helena, her husband and their baby girl a couple of weeks ago at the barbeque, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with them. They were all - happy. Normal. Or so I thought. 

Lucas nods. "Yeah. Sounds crazy, huh?" he shrugs. "She had postpartum depression. None of us realized how bad it was until it was almost too late." He pauses, purses his lips, and then continues. "We all thought it was just a little case of the baby blues at first, you know? We figured she'll just get over it soon. But then when the baby was about a month old her husband got back to travelling for his business - he had to go for two whole weeks to the States. And my father had just undergone major surgery on his knee, so my mom was focused on taking care of him, and Sandra and I -" he raises his shoulders. "You know how it is. Everybody's busy with their own lives." 

"What happened?" I ask quietly. 

"She closed all the windows and left the gas stove on. Then she put the baby to sleep in her crib, took a sleeping pill herself, and got into bed." His voice is flat is he recounts the events, as if afraid to allow himself to feel them. I can relate. 

I keep quiet. I know he'll continue the story when he's ready. After a moment, he does. 

"Luckily, a neighbor found them. She came by to bring Helena a bill that was placed in the wrong mailbox, and then became concerned when there was no answer as she knocked on the door, while the car was outside and the stroller folded right there on the porch. And then she thought she smelled gas, so she called 911." Lucas draws a shuddering breath, and I can see brightness glinting in his eyes. "They said another hour and the baby wouldn't have survived. A few more hours and Helena might not have, either." 

I nod. "Thank God for nosy neighbors, eh?" 

The very corner of Lucas's mouth twitches, and he gives me a tiny nod. After a while, he inhales deeply, and seems to shake off the memory of those bad times as he re-focuses on the here and now. On me. 

"Anyways, I suspect that's why Sandra was sensitive to that possibility. Why she cared." 

"Yeah. I can see that." 

We both lean back in our seats, and for a long while the room is quiet as we each stare ahead, seeing only the ghosts in our own minds.. 

A loud ringing breaks the silence, and Lucas reaches for his phone, checks the display, and swipes to answer. "Yes, Mama?" 

He listens, and his mouth thins in annoyance at first, but then he nods curtly. "Yes, Mama. I know. Alright, I promise." He listens some more and nods again. "Okay. I will. See you soon. Bye, Mama." After listening for another moment, he cuts the call and pockets his phone, looking back at me as he gets to his feet. 

"I'm gonna get going. My mother had just heard the rumors, too. The friend who told me - the brother of one of your colleagues from the station - also told his mother, who knits with mine, you know, at the knitting club." Lucas shrugs self-consciously. "She called to make sure I don't do anything stupid." 

Damn. I should have known. Secrets don't remain that way for long in a town this size, or in families as close as Sandra's. Especially a juicy one like mine. I curse inwardly, but then I know there's not a lot I can do about it. 

Except, maybe, go and talk to Sandra's parents directly. The thought makes me shiver. It isn't a conversation I'm looking forward to. But then the stakes are too high for me to chicken out. 

I get up on my feet to stand before Lucas. We both stare at each other uncomfortably, until I take a step forward and stretch out my hand. After a moment's hesitation, Lucas takes it and gives me a solid shake, and then keeps his fingers wrapped tightly around my hand. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 11



Author's note: 

Thank you to my co-creator and editor, the Brit. This story's been a hell of a ride, and I'm grateful that we got to ride it together! xoxo 

In previous chapters: 

Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra. 

Interested to find out what happens to a Dom after hitting his bottom? Go back to Chapter One and start reading... 

In this chapter: what do you think?! 

~~~~~~~ 

Standing outside the Matsakis' front door, unannounced, at 10am on a sunny October Friday morning, I try to steady my nerves as I reach for the bell. The movement causes my mother's ring, nestled in my shirt pocket, to prickle my chest right over my galloping heart. Gripping the pot filled with a bright flower arrangement in my other arm, I'm thankful to have chosen the traditional clay over the more sophisticated porcelain or glassware; if nothing else, its coarse surface is less likely to slip from my sweaty palms. 

"Just a minute, I'm coming!" 

Mrs. Matsakis sounds hurried as she shuffles to the door. She swings it wide open, not bothering with the peephole, and then freezes in place when she sees me, her welcoming smile waning. 

"Dan. I - what are you doing here?" She looks over my shoulder and then adds - "Sandra isn't with you? Is everything alright?" 

In the space of a few seconds her tone had gone from surprise to obvious alarm, and I'm quick to dispel her concern. 

"Yes, all's good with Sandra, I promise, Mrs. Matsakis. I just wanted to speak with you and your husband and hoped to catch you both at home. My apologies for not calling beforehand... would you be willing to spare me a few minutes, please?" 

"Who is it, Maria?" 

Mr. Matsakis' gruff voice sounds from upstairs, and his wife looks undecided for a moment before stepping aside and letting me in, gesturing towards her kitchen, and closes the door behind me. 

"Excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back." 

Not waiting my reply, Mrs. Matsakis turns and walks over to the stairs climbing to the second floor. I watch as she disappears upstairs, and then, realizing I can't just stand there at the doorway, I follow her unspoken direction and enter the kitchen to wait for her. 

Looking around I take in the hallmarks of a large, lively clan being raised and fed in this very room. The huge family table, and those stacks of plates and bowls piled high on shelves, enough to feed eighteen people in one sitting. The six-burner stovetop, with its array of pots and pans hanging on the walls on both sides of it. And the extra-large refrigerator, chosen as much for its surface area where family photos and kids' drawings are proudly displayed, as for its storage capacity. 

In my mind, I compare it to the smaller, always-pristine kitchen at my parents' home, and the formal dining room where the three of us had taken our meals. Unwilling to wallow in my own sob story, I force my imagination to conjure up Sandra as a little girl in blonde pigtails and missing two front teeth, skipping around this spacious room as her mama cooked, or sitting at the table chatting excitedly with her siblings over dinner. 

I know which of the two experiences I'd like to create for our child. Hopefully. Breathing deep I make myself stand tall. I have a mission to carry out, and it's not going to be easy. I'd better keep my head for this. 

"Dan." 

Mr. Matsakis' deep voice pulls me back to the here and now, and I turn around to see the tall, distinguished-looking man enter the kitchen, his limp more pronounced than I remembered, followed closely by his wife. 

He doesn't offer his hand for a shake, but rather gestures with his head that I should take a seat, and I know I have my work cut out for me. Before I take a chair, however, I turn to Mrs. Matsakis. 

"These are for you, Ma'am." 

A brief half-smile passes across her face but quickly disappears. 

"Thank you. They're lovely." 

Taking the pot from me she places it in the middle of the table, and then wipes her hands on her apron. 

"Shall we all sit?" 

We each take a spot; Mr. Matsakis at the head of the table, his wife to his right, and myself to his left, facing her. 

"Go ahead." Mr. Matsakis doesn't bother with niceties. I take a deep breath. 

"I came to ask for your blessing." 

They both gasp in surprise, looking at each other and then back at me as if I've just sprouted an extra head. 

"You can't be serious." Mr. Matsakis says flatly, and Mrs. Matsakis puts a calming hand on his forearm and catches my gaze. 

"Why?" 

Her question is so unexpected, I just stare at her. After several long moments have passed in awkward silence she speaks again, her voice somewhat kinder. 

"Sandra is thirty years old, Dan. She's an adult, an independent woman. Obviously, this is her decision to make, and I have a feeling that you'll ask her anyways, regardless of our answer." She raises her eyebrows, pinning me with her look, and at my curt, thin-lipped nod, she continues. "Why then even ask? When you know how we feel, given the circumstances, why put yourself - put us - in this situation?" 

Maybe it's the tone of her voice, which sounds perplexed rather than accusatory, that allows me to lower my guard and answer truthfully. 

"Because I know what it's like, to marry against your family's wishes. It's heartbreaking, and if I can save Sandra from that pain, I will." 

"You can save her from it by not marrying her." Mr. Matsakis doesn't budge. 

"Not an option." I bite my lips to keep from using the one card I know would likely sway their minds; but doing so would effectively take away Sandra's decision on the matter. I keep my mouth resolutely shut. 

Sandra's parents share a silent look, and then Mrs. Matsakis drops her gaze, staring at her own fingers fumbling together. After several awkward seconds, she looks up, and quietly admits - 

"I met with Ada." 

I barely notice Mr. Matsakis deep scowl over the rush of blood in my ears. Sandra's mother spoke with Naomi's sister?! 

Beyond my shock, there's a strange, unexpected tug in my chest, and I realize I've missed my ex-sister. Over the years she'd taken their deceased parents' place as the head of Naomi's family, and we'd spent more than one holiday dinner together, have celebrated birthdays and anniversaries with Ada and her husband and kids, have attended family events together... Ada's friendly manner and her no-nonsense approach to life had always put me at ease. 

"I - how come?" 

Mrs. Matsakis shrugs. "It's a small town. It didn't take long to ask around and find out that your ex-wife had an older sister who's a high-school teacher, too. Although I'd retired a few years back and she teaches with the other school on the west side of town, still it was simple to get her number. I called and asked to meet. She gladly obliged." 

It is only now I notice Mr. Matsakis expression. He looks flabbergasted as he stares at his wife, mouth agape. Mrs. Matsakis notices, too, but she only waves her hand dismissively at him. 

"Really, Theodore, did you expect anything else from me? You knew I would get to the bottom of this." 

I half-expect a strongly-worded rebuke, judging by the old man's dark expression, but then he simply closes his mouth and nods curtly, accepting, it seems, his wife's right to do what she thought was needed to be done, even if he didn't like it. 

I clear my throat. "Ehm, how is Ada?" 

"She's very well. Seems happy about her sister's upcoming wedding." 

Mrs. Matsakis doesn't hide her close scrutiny watching for my reaction, and I can see some of the tension leave her shoulders when I simply nod. 

"Yes, I know. I'm happy for Naomi, too." the churn in my gut mellows as that truth resonates inside me, leaving me slightly breathless. I am happy for her. 

"Then how come you beat her up just months ago, when you heard she had a new boyfriend?!" 

Mr. Matsakis voice thunders across the table, hitting me full force. His hands are tightly fisted, shaking with his barely-contained rage. His wife places her palm on his forearm again, but he shakes it off impatiently. 

"He beat her up, Maria. He assaulted the woman he said he loved. How can you be so calm?!" 

"Theo, please. Lucas told us what happened. God knows, in this family, we should know better than to judge a person by their sickness, horrific as their actions may have been." 

But Mr. Matsakis seems only aggravated by his wife's gentle words. "How can you even say that? How can you compare Helena's situation with post-partum and all to - to - to this?!" 

If I'd expected Sandra's mother to cower before her husband's wrath, I'm in for a surprise. The woman seems to grow before my very eyes, her spine straightening and hardening as she sits tall and glares back at her husband. 

"Oh, so one type of depression - the kind that leads you to attempt to murder your newborn baby - that kind deserves your compassion, but another kind doesn't?!" 

Mr. Matsakis gasps, but his wife is on a roll. "Well, respectfully, Theo, that's bullshit. I spoke with Ada. She'd known Dan here for over a decade. She told me he was a decent man, a good man, who had made her sister very happy - for most of their marriage, at least. She did tell me the last couple of years had been strained, what with their trying and failing for kids, and that they eventually split over that. But she said that he'd been fair to a fault with Naomi throughout the divorce process; that it was clear it was as hard a decision for him as it was for her sister - maybe harder, she said, judging by how miserable he seemed the few times she saw him after." 

Red-faced, I fidget uncomfortably in my seat, and cough a couple of times, at a loss for words at this unexpected, heated defense of my character by my ex-sister - and by the passionate way Mrs. Matsakis had delivered it. 

The older couple stop their staring match for a moment to throw me a cursory look, but then they return to each other. 

"Are you saying you're willing to risk our daughter's well-being because this man was once a good guy - before he went on to assault his own ex-wife?" 

Mr. Matsakis raises his chin as he issues his challenge, but his fury had clearly dissipated, leaving behind the kind of stubborn protectiveness I could relate to only too well. 

His wife notices, too, and her tight face relaxes into a gentle smile. I can see her love to her husband - and to Sandra - shine through when she speaks next. 

"I'm saying people may do truly horrific things when they're sick, but that doesn't mean they are horrible people; nor does it mean they can never heal." 

Gesturing at me with her chin, she adds - "When I see this man humbling himself by coming here, begging for our blessing, knowing it would mean getting bashed, but doing it anyways, because it would save our daughter from heartache... when Lucas tells me he'd been religious in getting the treatment he needs... when Ada tells me that for forty-odd years he'd been a good man, except for that one sin..." 

She blinks, as if fighting back tears, and continues with conviction. "I'm saying I won't stand in my daughter's way; nor would I make her life choices for her. Sandra knows Dan better than any one of us. If she decides to marry him, then I trust her judgment, and I'd do anything in my power to make sure they're happy together. If that means giving them my blessing, then by God, I will." 

Several seconds tick by as the older couple stare each other down, while I hold my breath. Finally, Mr. Matsakis gives a curt nod, though his lips are thinned to an almost invisible line. 

"Very well, then." He mutters gruffly, and then looks up to catch my eyes in a fierce stare. 

"I will give you my blessing, young man. But I'll be watching you like a hawk. If you so much as lay a finger on my daughter in anger, if you do anything to harm her..." 

I nod even before he finishes. "I know, sir. And I respect that." 

Looking back at Mrs. Matsakis, who smiles at her husband through her tears, I reach instinctively to squeeze her wrinkled hand in mine. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Matsakis. I promise I will spend the rest of my life making your daughter happy." 

To my astonishment, Mr. Matsakis' hand came to blanket my own warmly. 

"You do that, son. You do that, and you'll always be welcome at our home." 

I blink furiously and need to swallow several times to push down the lump in my throat before I manage to croak out - 

"Thank you. Thank you both." 

I'm swamped with childish longing for the kind of parents I'd never had. Pushing it down resolutely as all three of us finally withdraw our hands to lean back in our chairs, I focus my mind on Sandra, and am thankful that she, at least, had them.  

They would make wonderful grandparents. 

Reluctantly, I get up. "I need to go. I asked Lucas to meet me at noon, and I don't want to be late." 

Sandra's parents both smile as they rise to their feet. "Making the rounds, are you?" Mr. Matsakis asks wryly, and I shrug and nod. 

"I guess so. I want this to be perfect for Sandra." 

We walk over to the door together, and once there Mrs. Matsakis surprises me by pulling me in for a tight hug, and then kisses me on both cheeks. "God bless, Dan." 

Her husband reaches out his hand, and I take it, feeling the squeeze at my heart. "Good luck, Dan." 

With a final nod I take my leave, my steps a hundred times lighter than they were on my way up these same stairs. I got Sandra's parents blessing to ask for her hand in marriage. Now all I had to do was set up the stage, make sure there were safety nets in place just in case... and then, it would be up to Sandra. 

Trust and hope. 

* 

* 

* 

"Thanks for meeting me. I appreciate it." 

Standing up, I offer my hand to Lucas. Sandra's older brother hesitates before accepting my gesture, his grip firm, and tightens further, holding onto my hand without letting go. 

"Knowing what's at stake between you and my sister, there was no way I could refuse. What's going on, Dan?" 

A polite cough breaks our impromptu stand-off and Lucas releases me to take his seat across the table. The waitress pulls out her order pad. 

"Can I get you two anything to drink first?" 

"Coffee and a glass of water for me, please. Lucas?" 

"Water's fine, thanks." 

Sensing the charged atmosphere between us the young woman makes a hasty retreat, and I am left to face Lucas's stare on my own. 

"Talk to me." 

Lucas's voice is pained, and I can guess at the source of it: feeling powerless to protect your loved ones is hell, especially to certain take-charge types of men. I should know. I hope what I'm about to ask of him will make him feel a little better. 

"I need your help." 

Lucas raises his eyebrows, but remains silent. 

"I'm going to propose to Sandra today, and I want her to feel free to give me an honest answer. So I'd like for you to be there, to let her know she's safe to make her choice either way." 

Lucas absorbs my words mutely for several long moments, and I am left to try to guess at his reaction from the way his lips thin to a grim line and his jaw muscles work under his tight, bronzed skin. Finally he speaks, his voice low: 

"So, she's keeping her baby then?" 

I meet and hold his gaze. "I don't know yet." 

Lucas inhales sharply, his nostrils flaring. "I see." 

He tears his eyes away from mine to look at the falling leaves floating in the air at the park outside the cafe's glass walls. After a while he nods to himself, and then returns to look at me. 

"When and where do you need me to be?" 

"Right here in this coffee shop, at four this afternoon. But sit outside so that you can see the bakery's outdoor terrace across the lawn. That's where we're going to sit." 

Lucas nods somberly. "I'll be here." 

"Thank you. I appreciate it." I offer, trying for a smile even though I know I'm too tense to manage it. 

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for my sister." The muscle jumps in his jaw again. 

"I know. That's what I'm thanking you for. 

With only the briefest of nods Lucas acknowledges my words and then stands up. "I'll be here at four. I hope to God Sandra makes the right choice." 

I actually smile at that. "You and I both." 

Lucas grunts something under his breath, and then turns and walks away. 

* 

* 

* 

Arranging the rest of my little production is easy. All that's left is walking across to the bakery to reserve the right table out on the terrace, and then calling Jon to let him know I'll need him there, too. He assures me that, as always, he'd have my back. Bless him. 

On my way to my apartment I stop at Mr. Sharas' to get a proper haircut and shave. When he hears what's the occasion, he tries to return my payment, and finally agrees to accept it on condition that for my wedding I'll come get a free cut, as a gift from him. 

I make one more detour before heading home, and swing by Dr. Pappas's office. I had called ahead to cancel my appointment, knowing I'd be too wound up to do any real work today, but now I feel like I could use his reassurance. His admin smiles at me and motions for me to step into his office as soon as I come in, and I feel the tight nerves in my belly unwind a bit. 

"Glad to see you could make it, after all." 

Dr. Pappas smiles at me, and strides over to put his hand on my shoulder and propel me towards the empty chairs. I dig in my heels, and he releases me to look up in surprise. 

"Or maybe not?" 

I shake my head. "I can't stay for the whole session." 

"Oh?" 

His typical, mildly-voiced non-question makes me smile. "But I've found that I couldn't go ahead with my plan without getting your explicit blessing. Which is what I'm here for." 

Dr. Pappas tilts his head, considering me. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or disappointed." Then he adds with unconcealed curiosity: "Wanna tell me about that plan of yours?" 

"Yeah, I do." I smile nervously, fervently wishing inside that he'd give me the answer I'm looking for. "I'm going to propose to Sandra this afternoon." 

"Ah." Dr. Pappas mulls over my declaration. "And you need my blessing because...?" 

"Well, because I'm not at all sure she'd say 'yes'. And while I think I'd handle a different answer okay, hearing it from you would be... reassuring." 

"Hmm." 

Dr. Pappas shoves his hands in his pockets and turns his back on me, walking over to his window. He looks out for a while as I stand there, waiting, trying not to get annoyed at the good doctor. Is it too much to ask of my shrink to show some moral support?! 

Finally he turns back to me, and I am shocked to realize the reason he had turned away: his eyes are more than a little misty and red-rimmed, as if he's about to cry. But his smile is genuine when he slowly walks back to me, and without uttering a word puts his arms around me for a tight hug. 

After a moment, I return it, and then we both draw back. With one look at my face, Dr. Pappas barks a laugh and reaches to the box of tissues on the low coffee table, offering it to me while taking one to himself, and we both take a moment to clumsily mop at our less-than-manly tears. 

When we've both composed ourselves, Dr. Pappas reaches up to squeeze my upper arms. 

"It's going to be fine, Dan. I have full confidence in you. Now go, I'm sure you have more important things to do than hang out with me at the clinic right now." 

"Yeah, I do, actually." I chuckle my relief, and step back. "Thank you, doc. I promise to call and let you know how it all went, later on tonight." 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 11



"You do that, son. You do that. Now go, do what you need to do." 

Grinning, I turn and leave the small office, then skip down the stairs two at a time in my hurry to get home. 

Only three more hours. God, I can't wait! 

* 

* 

* 

"I wish I had time to go home and change," Sandra gestures self-consciously at herself, still wearing her white nurse's dress. 

"Are you kidding me?! Baby, you're gorgeous. I'd question you wearing that to work - some patients may go into cardiac arrest seeing you in it - but for a date with me? Honestly, it's perfect." 

I mean it, too. The hospital-issued white uniform dress, while respectable in length and cleavage, fits her curves as if tailor-made, lovingly tracing the lines of her body, leaving just enough mystery for my imagination. And oh, the images my mind comes up with... 

Sandra smiles. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. It's just that... I dunno. This is such a nice place, you know?" 

I do know. I took care choosing this specific boutique bakery, right in the middle of the park. The air is still warm at four in the afternoon, the light breeze brings the sweet-salty smell of the Mediterranean ocean right into town, and the autumn colors all around us are unequivocally romantic. It's the perfect setting. I hope. 

My heartbeat quickens, and I make an effort to keep calm, at least on the outside. 

"I'm glad you like it, baby. I wanted to take you somewhere special because I have something special to ask you." 

Fuck. Just saying that makes my pulse accelerate until it thumps loudly in my ears. 

"Oh?" 

Sandra bites her lower lip as she looks at me expectantly, and I think I hear an excited undertone in her voice, but maybe that's just my wishful thinking. 

Trust and hope, Dan. Here goes. 

My limbs are sluggish obeying my mind as I get out of my chair and then down on one knee, taking both her hands in my shaky, slightly damp fingers. 

Sandra's eyes widen as she catches on to what I'm doing, and her mouth drops open in a gasp, and suddenly I worry she'd stop me before I got any words out. 

"Wait, baby. Let me go first, okay?" 

Sandra closes her mouth, giving my hands a nervous squeeze, but then blurts out: 

"But - but I haven't told you my decision yet. About - about the baby." 

My breath hitches, but I push through. "I know you haven't, and I don't want you to tell me. Not until I say my piece. Please." My voice starts out rough, and with effort I manage to soften it. "Please. Hear me out first, okay?" 

She nods, and I mirror her gesture. "Thank you, baby. Now, first of all, I just want you to look over to that other coffee shop, on the other side of the lawn. See the table just across from us?" 

Confused, Sandra looks over, and then exclaims - "That's - that's my brother Lucas!" 

Her older brother waves at her casually, though his face is grim. Sandra looks back and forth between us until finally her gaze settles on me, questioning. 

"I asked him to be here. And Jon and Annie are sitting at the table behind him, see?" 

Sandra's head whips back as she scans the other cafe, until she finds my friends. She hadn't met Annie yet - I hope to rectify that soon - but she knows Jon from the hospital, and then from her time nursing me at home. He gives her a discreet thumbs-up, and Sandra smiles in embarrassment and returns her eyes to me, kneeling before her. Her surprise at seeing them all slowly melts into understanding. 

"Is this your way of giving me a safety?" 

I nod, swallowing hard. 

Sandra tilts her head and squeezes my hands. "I've never been afraid of you." 

My voice is strained when I reply. "One of these days, I hope I won't be afraid of me, either. Until then, I'm going to play it extra safe. Will you bear with me?" 

Instead of answering she raises our joint hands, and kisses my fingers. With my heart lodged in my throat, I plunge forward, our eyes locked together. 

"So, here's the deal, baby: I love you. You are the most generous, compassionate woman I've ever met. You're smart and fun and hard-working, and you're so honest it's freakin' mind-blowing." 

"I -" 

"And you are, by far, the sexiest woman on the face of this earth." 

She gasps and blushes, and I kiss her hands and continue before she can interrupt. 

"Now, I figure you've made your decision, but I don't want to know what it is - not yet. Because I want this to be only about us. About you and me. Regardless of the baby. Okay?" 

"Um, okay -" 

"Wait. I need you to listen carefully because this is the important part, okay?" 

"Okay. I'm listening." 

I smile, and then inhale deeply, gathering my courage. 

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to grow old with you. I want us to raise our children together - now or in the future, whenever you decide. I just want you." 

Her chin starts to quiver and her sea-blue eyes fill with tears, and my heart swells when I rush on to finish - 

"Will you marry me, Sandra?" 

There's a moment of silence between us as she blinks a couple of times, tears now trailing down her flushed, pretty face, and she's biting her lips so hard I'm afraid she'd draw blood. 

"Oh - I - I mean - is it my turn now?" 

I nod jerkily, cough, and hope not to die of a heart attack as I await her reply. 

"Yes, please. Go ahead." 

She smiles through her tears. "Yes." 

There's silence. Then her word sinks in. 

"Yes?" 

Her smile widens, even as she sobs. 

"Yes, I'll marry you. I love you, too." 

I let her words wash through me. My head swims and my body trembles with relief. In the next moment, I remember the ring stuffed inside my shirt pocket. Fumbling to get it, I try and fail to keep steady as I reach for her hand. 

Looking up I see her eyes riveted to the antique ring. 

"Oh my gosh, it's beautiful!" 

"It was my mother's; it's been in my family for generations. Here..." 

Slipping the ring carefully onto her third finger we both stare at it - me a little bit in shock at the reality of it hugging her finger so perfectly, while Sandra says reverently - 

"It's breathtaking, Dan. I'm - honored." 

I bend to kiss her hand, the coolness of the ring tickling the edge of my lips, contrasted sharply with the warmth of her skin. 

"The honor is mine, baby. Thank you." 

I reach up to her as she bends towards me and we meet halfway for a sweet kiss, which soon turns spicy and then downright hot - only to be broken by Lucas's voice, sounding thicker than usual as he speaks from somewhere above our heads. 

"So, may I be the first to congratulate you two?" 

We break away laughing, and then there's a flurry of hugs and kisses and handshakes and back-slaps, with Jon and Annie being close on Lucas' heels. Just as we pull back and stare at each other with matching silly grins on all our faces - even Lucas - the background music turns to a loud rendition of I think I wanna marry you and a band of waiters, both male and female, create a ridiculous dance train that is headed straight to us. 

The line of unlikely dancers is led by a huge bear of a man in a cook's attire holding some kind of dessert on his plate, only it's topped with the most crazy sparkler I've ever seen - like a huge sconce shooting sparkles out a couple of feet high to the air. We all stare in disbelief as the human train arrives at our table, and the cook places his platter on our table with grandiose flare. 

"This one is on the house, folks. Bon Apetit!" 

He shakes my hand, and then gives my still-shocked fiancé a kiss on each cheek, and then goes back to lead the waiters in dance all the way back to the kitchen, leaving us all gaping behind him, still trying to process. 

"Umm, I guess we'll all share - there's a handful of spoons and enough crème brûlée here to feed a small army!" Sandra exclaims, and everyone takes the hint and joins us, pulling extra chairs from neighboring tables whose beaming patrons easily agree to adjust for us. 

Belatedly, I make the official introductions between everyone, and the conversation which starts off a bit haltingly soon becomes lively and good-natured when we somehow get to talking about soccer. I sit back and relax a bit, finally letting myself fully enjoy this - this miracle - in its fullest, when Lucas's phone rings. 

Checking the display, he grins and then answers. "Yes, Mama, she said yes!" and we can hear the excited squeal from the other end of the line, and then some chatter, to which Lucas replies - "The bakery at the park. Yes I know you're just around the corner -" he winks as Sandra and I both gasp - "and yes, you're welcome to join us - right?" he looks up to catch our affirming nods, and returns to the phone. "Yes, Mama, they'd love for you to come." Lucas nods as he listens and smiles. "Okay. See you in a moment then." 

Indeed, it takes less than a minute for Sandra's teary-eyed mother and her no-longer-somber father to show up. I quirk an eyebrow seeing Mr. Matsakis is carrying something - a small ice-box, of all things, but he just smirks at me and goes on to give his daughter a bear hug and to shake my hand, while his wife, after showering both of us in kisses, goes on to coo over her daughter's ring. 

"I'll be right back", Mr. Matsakis announces, and walks into the bakery, only to be followed out a moment later by an excited waitress carrying seven empty champagne flutes on a tray. 

The waitress places the glassware in front of everyone while Mr. Matsakis opens the ice-box and produces two expensive-looking bottles of chilled champagne, and hands one to Lucas. 

"You open that one, son." 

Two loud pops sound shortly - to the cheers of the people around us - and then the waitress goes around pouring everyone's drinks. When she's done she takes the one empty bottle with her, and leaving it's half-full twin on the table, and Mr. Matsakis goes to his feet and raises his glass, motioning for everyone else to do the same. 

"A toast, then. To my beloved daughter Sandra, and to her beloved Dan. I am not a man of words, so let me just wish you two happiness, good health, and a long and fruitful marriage. Salut!" 

"- Salut!" 

"- Cheers!" 

Everyone raises their glasses and drink. I smile as I look sideways at Sandra, and notice she barely wets her lips with champagne, and then licks them, sucking her bottom lip to get that tiny drop. Then she puts down her glass and looks up to catch me staring at her. Smiling shyly, she shrugs and nods slightly, biting her lips. 

Comprehension dawns on me slowly. I gulp down the mouthful of champagne I just took, and stare at her dumbly, hope bubbling in my chest until it spills out in a delighted chuckle, which draws everyone's attention back to the two of us, staring at each other with matching silly smiles spread across our faces. 

Annie is the first to catch on, gasping loudly as her hand flies up to her mouth, belatedly trying to stop the sound from escaping. Jon looks between her and us, and a smile almost as big as mine appears on his face. Lucas, on my other side exhales loudly, as if hugely relieved, and simply walks around to take Sandra in a big bear hug, holding her close for several moments and speaking quietly into her ear. She nods emphatically into his neck as fresh tears stream down her cheeks. 

"Okay, someone tell me what's going on." 

Mrs. Matsakis glares at me, then at her son over Sandra's head, and when neither one of us speaks she turns to Jon and Annie, who shrug apologetically and shake their heads, unwilling to answer. 

Mr. Matsakis glares at his oldest son, and his deep voice bears no argument as he speaks: 

"Lucas, what's going on here?" 

Lucas and Sandra break their hug reluctantly as the man looks from his sister to his parents, and back. 

"I'm just happy for Sandra, that's all." 

I swallow my grin at their matching guilty looks, imagining Sandra as that tooth-gapped blonde little girl once more, standing a half-shoulder behind her brother who tries to protect her by somehow talking their way out of whatever mischief they'd done. 

But Sandra is no longer a mischievous kid. She rests her palm on her brother's wide shoulder, squeezes it as she smiles at him, and then steps forward to face her parents squarely. My heart swells with pride as she speaks, her voice steady and strong, if a bit thick with tears: 

"Mama, Papa, I have more good news for you." 

* 

* 

* 

Sandra's pronounced curves look even more exaggerated in the soft glow of candles. 

I can't stop looking at her, at the way the light flickers across her huge belly and over her heavy breasts. Her areolas, which before her pregnancy would pucker to resemble tiny red raisins are as large as dollar coins now, and much darker in color. Her nipples stick out, glistening wet from my tongue, as does her clitoris, which peeks between her pink, swollen labia, coated in shining juice. 

With her being as far along as she is, I can no longer have her flat on her back. Instead she is standing at the doorway, legs spread, hands grasping the frame on either side of her head. 

My fingers tunnel in the sweaty hair at her nape, keeping her steady, and my mouth covers hers as my other hand finds her slick folds. I catch her gasp as I slowly sink two fingers into her engorged tunnel, and flick my thumb back and forth over her clit quickly, insistently, precisely the way she likes it. 

Sandra mewls into my lips, her soft whimpers quickly turning into louder whines, and then she throws her head back and opens her mouth for a scream, except no sound comes out as her breath catches in her throat. 

God, I love watching her cum. 

She seemed suspended there on the precipice and I almost freak out at how long she'd gone without a breath when Sandra exhales with a deep shudder and convulses around my fingers, her sweet juice drenching my palm, and I smile and bring her head forward to catch her eyes. 

She's panting heavily now and her eyes are glazed over, but a dreamy smile stretches on her sweaty face. 

Wordlessly I slide my arm under hers and support her weight as I gently nudge her forward and then walk her over to the bed. Our folded duvet, covered with a thick towel, waits on the floor at the foot of our bed just for this occasion - having a nine-month-pregnant subby wife means a limited range of positions and extra planning in advance - and I help her down to her knees and have her place her forearms on the bed, half-bent forward. 

"Spread wider, babygirl." 

Kneeling between her knees on the thick padding I hold my dick in one hand to guide it to her pussy, spreading her left ass cheek with the other to get better access - and view. And oh, the view is absolutely spectacular. 

I watch the head of my cock split her labia and glide easily inside. She's so wet there's barely any resistance, only a deliciously hot and sleek pressure that wraps tightly around me. She moans when I enter her and slowly grinds back against me, and I grab hold of her ass and return the favor, going as deep as I can until her beautiful, smooth globes flatten against my pelvis. 

She breathes in and lowers her head to her arms with another deep moan, while her pussy clenches around me. I smile. My babygirl is impatient, isn't she? 

"All right, love. I know you've had enough of waiting... here we go." 

Letting my fingers sink into her soft flesh I pull out only to thrust back inside, again and again and again, my need spiking with every deep stroke, building higher by the second. My babygirl keeps working me from the inside - they called them 'Kegel exercises' in our prenatal course, and Sandra had been practicing religiously - and it doesn't take long before my balls tighten and my dick swells inside, the tight pressure becoming almost painful before it is released in several large spurts, as I splash Sandra's inner walls with thick, hot spunk. 

"Arrgghhh!!" 

I jerk inside her a few more times until the very last of my orgasm is gone, and then collapse over her, catching myself with my hands on both side of hers to keep any of my weight off, and heave over her, huffing and puffing in her ear, my heart still running a mile a minute. 

Another moan rises from her lips and she rolls her head to the side, and I lean over to stroke her hair away from her damp face with my still-shaky hand so that I can see her eyes. 

"So, you think it worked, baby?" 

Sandra chuckles breathlessly and bucks lightly against me to indicate I should get off her. I move to the side and then help her up to her feet and then onto the bed, watching her move with all the gracefulness of a blue whale onto her side, then pull one pillow under her head and another between her knees, as has been her favorite sleep position for most of her third trimester. 

"Well..." she breathes, and then reaches for the bottled water on the nightstand, takes a deep swig, and hands it over to me before continuing. "I think we've covered every trick in the book with this one - nipple stimulation, giving me a couple of hard orgasms to get my uterus contracting, priming my cervix with the Prostaglandins in your semen - at this point, if this doesn't work I'd be prone to think he's never coming out!" 

I chuckle and gulp down half the bottle before capping it and placing it back on the night stand. "Well, we've definitely given it our best shot... guess we'll wait and see, huh?" 

Sandra grunts something about 'tired of waiting' and I retreat hastily to the bathroom to look for a washcloth, having learned it would be better than remaining a sitting target to her understandable frustration. At 41 weeks gestation, a woman had a right to be short-tempered - even a good little subbie like mine. 

When I'm back with the warm, wet cloth I find her already dozing off. 

"Baby, I know you're tired... just let me clean you up a bit okay?" 

Reluctantly she lets me lift her top leg enough to reach in between them and gently swipe over her folds. When I bring my hand back to fold the cloth, my heart stops in my chest, and then kicks into a gallop. I can barely mumble - 

"Sandra, baby, you're - you're bleeding." 

"Mmm... what?" 

I don't think she heard me. Fuck. Should I stress out about this? Should I stress her out? Shit. She's the medical professional between the two of us. FUCK. 

"Sandra, look at the washcloth. I think - I think you're bleeding, baby." 

"What?! Let me see." Obviously she heard me now, because all sleep seem to have evaporated from her eyes as she props herself up on her left elbow and reaches for the piece of damp cloth in my hand. 

"Turn the lights on, Dan. I need to see better." 

I roll over to flip the switch and full light floods the room, making me blink several times before I can focus on anything. When I roll back to Sandra I see her sitting up, staring at the washcloth in her hands, an excited smile spread on her face. 

"What?!" I demand, and she chuckles nervously. 

"I think - I think that's the mucus plug." 

"I - what the HELL is that?!" 

She giggles, clearly excited. "It's one of the early signs of labor. And it's completely normal. I've been looking forward to it!" 

I shake my head. "I don't get it. I see blood. That can't be good, can it?!" 

She smiles as she places her hand on my forearm, sensing my agitation. 

"There's a tiny bit of blood, yes, but that's not 'bleeding'. That's barely 'spotting'. And its a sign of my cervix softening and beginning to open. Which means, hopefully, that I'll be going into labor soon." 

Panic, pure and swift, slices through me. "What?! When? How soon? Do we need to get to the hospital?" 

I'm already on my feet, looking for my underwear, as I hear Sandra's laughter. 




Hitting the Bottom Ch. 11



"Stop, please! You'll hurt yourself. Sit down, please, baby. It's not THAT soon." 

I sit down heavily, and she reaches out to take my hand, squeezing my fingers. 

"'Soon' can mean anything from a couple of hours to a couple of days, baby. There's no rush. I don't feel any contractions or anything. Best we can do is go to sleep now... they say they don't call it 'labor' for nothing. It's best if I get some rest." 

Breathing deep, I will myself to settle down as much as I can under the circumstances. She's going into labor soon. Mutely I nod, and then get up to walk around the room and blow out all the candles before getting back to bed and flipping the main lights off. 

I gather my hugely pregnant wife in my arms - and pull her gently to me until her head rests on my shoulder, and her two-sizes-larger breasts press sweetly to my side. 

"All right, baby. Rest it is then. Let me know when it's the right time to panic, okay?" 

Her soft chuckle tickles my neck. "Yes, sir. Will do." 

* 

* 

* 

I wake up a little after midnight to the sound of water running in the shower. A few minutes after Sandra shows up at the bathroom door, and smiles nervously when she sees me sitting there. 

"I think it's time". 

It takes all of eight minutes for us to be out the door, and during that time she has two contractions which are strong enough that she needs to concentrate and breathe through them. 

The contractions come closer and closer together as we drive to the hospital, until by the time we arrive to the Labor and Delivery ward they are only two minutes apart, and Sandra no longer smiles through them. 

Upon admission we are told she is 'officially' in active labor and the nurse asks if she wants any pain relief, but Sandra just shakes her head no, asking instead to get into the shower. And so, as soon as we finish filling all those forms and are assigned our labor and delivery room, she strips naked and walks into the bathroom, and then spends the next hour in there, sitting in the tub with the spray of scalding hot water on her back. 

Lin, our midwife, arrives soon after Sandra gets in the shower. The petite, blue-eyed woman is in her fifties, her hair mostly grey and her smile reassuring. She'd takes a quick look at Sandra's results from her check-up upon admission and then, with a satisfied nod, goes over to the shower and gently knocks on the door before peeking her head inside. 

"How are you doing in there, Sandra?" 

' - I'm doing good here, let me be. I'll call you when I need you' - comes the annoyed-sounding reply, and so we do just that. I get myself a cup of coffee and tea for Lin and settle down to chat - though for the life of me I won't be able to recall any of it later on. And we wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

Once in a while we hear low moans coming from the shower. But every time we check on her Sandra chases us away, preferring, so it seems, to labor in solitude. 

We wait some more. 

Then a loud moan comes from the bathroom, and by the time we get to the door it swings open from the inside and Sandra stands there, haphazardly wrapped in a hospital-issued towel. 

"I feel like I need to push" she declares, and the midwife gets her on the bed to check. 

"Yes, you're fully dilated, so you can push whenever you feel the need to. Are you comfortable in this position? Or would you like me help you move around to a different one?" 

"Squat" Sandra answers between quick exhales. Lin motions for me to come over so that we can support Sandra from both sides as she slowly rises to a sit, gets her legs under her, turns to face the back of the bed, holds on to the railing, and finally sinks into a deep squat. 

It's certainly effective - within a few contractions the baby descends fully - but then Sandra can't keep the position; her thigh muscles are shaking, and Lin quietly advises her to lower her knees to the mattress. 

Once she does, though, she doesn't need our support - and she turns back to hiss between gritted teeth - "let me be, please, don't touch me right now" - and so I find myself tucked in the corner, watching my wife groan loudly and then scream with every push. 

I wish I could do something to help; to ease her pain. I've never felt so useless in my life. 

"Oooohhh here it comes, here it comes...!" 

Sandra's low moan sounds ethereal and I watch, fascinated, as every muscle in her torso contracts in a coordinated ripple, engulfing her body, and then she throws her head back and roars - she actually roars - while the midwife places her hands at her opening. 

"Ohmygod it burns, it burns so much...!" 

This one comes out as a miserable whine, and the midwife does something - I can't see from where I'm standing - and speaks to her in a low voice. 

"That's right, it burns, I know... don't stop pushing, push-push-push as long as you can... keep pushing... a little more... there you go! Atta girl! The head is out! Good girl, you did so well!" 

Sandra blows heavily and I can see that half-smile on her face that I love so much. She tries looking down but can't see the baby's head beyond her still-huge belly. Lin rests a reassuring hand on her tense shoulder. 

"You're doing great, Sandra. When the next one comes I want you to push a long one again." 

The midwife looks up to catch my eyes and gives me an encouraging, confident smile and I can suddenly breathe easier. 

Then the next contraction comes and Sandra growls low and long as she pushes with all of her might. Both she and Lin seem frozen in place, and then suddenly there's a rush of movement as Sandra screams 'Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygaawwwddd!' and then the baby is out - he's out! - and the midwife quickly clears his airways and rubs him vigorously with the towel. 

I watch the process, transfixed, from my place in the corner, when Sandra's hoarse voice sounds from the bed. 

"Why - why isn't he crying?" 

My heart stutters as I turn my frantic eyes to Lin, but the midwife calmly picks our baby up, and then spanks on his bottom in a well-practiced move. A second later we hear his strong, healthy cry. 

Lin smiles knowingly. "Sometimes it's necessary, for them to figure out how to start their new lives," she says, soothing the baby's stinging buttocks with a soft caress, and then motions for me to come forward. 

"Help your wife sit back so that I can hand her the baby." 

Sandra half-collapses to her side and then rolls to her back, and I help her scoot up so that she is propped against the tilted backrest, a pillow supporting her head. Lin steps forward and gently places our still-naked, newborn son in his mother's arms, and then draws the sheet up to cover both of them. 

"The skin-to-skin touch is very good for both mom and baby" Lin says to the room at large, and Sandra nods absentmindedly, her teary eyes riveted to the tiny, wrinkled face lying against her breast, looking up at her through puffy eyelids. 

Lin moves back, and motions for me to take her place. "Go on, Daddy. Say hello to your son." 

I step forward and then bend low to take a close look at my son's face. His eyes are closed now and I swear, never in all of mankind's history has there ever been a more perfect baby. 

"God, he's beautiful." 

"He is, isn't he?" Sandra beams at me, and I lean to kiss her forehead. 

"You are too, baby. I'm in awe, seriously." 

Her exuberant grin widens even as her chin trembles. 

"I love you." She squeaks out, and my own cheeks are wet when I lean for a sweet, tender kiss. 

"I love you, too." 

In that moment our baby's eyes blink open, and he looks up at us. I laugh out loud. 

"You, too, Antonis Theodore Moreno. Mommy and Daddy love you, too." 

~ The End ~ 

~~~~~~~ 

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