0 comments/ 33392 views/ 0 favorites Inevitable By: Yvie He walked into the room and saw me sitting quietly, reading a magazine, curled up in an old football jersey, his collar wound and buckled about my neck. He looked at me with hard dark eyes and told me to come into the bedroom. I watched him walk smoothly across the floor, his body muscular and graceful as he disappeared through the doorway. I took a deep breath, suddenly worried about my looks, checked the mirror, pulled off my shirt, and padded barefoot across the carpet into the room where he waited. My new master stood near the wall, calmly looking me over. He wore a tight undershirt and jeans, the fine ribbing of the white cotton hugging the muscles of his chest and stomach, baring his arms, toned, scarred, brown. He looked relaxed, his stance wide. He barely smiled as I approached, and I stood before him, already shivering, looking, against my better judgment, into his face for reassurance. Finding none, I knelt on the floor in a position familiar from past training, with my back straight, sitting on crossed ankles, hands on thighs, eyes downcast. He touched the back of my neck softly, the first vertebra below my collar, and I shivered. "Get down," he said quietly. I bent over at the waist, wrists crossed on the floor under my forehead. "You will call me Sir; do you understand?" "Yes, Sir," I replied in a low voice. "You will ask permission before you speak; do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "When I tell you to get something for me, you will present it to me using both hands, with your eyes down; do you understand?" "Yes, Sir." "Do you remember my safeword?" "Yes, Sir," I said again, afraid, but trusting his calm, strong voice. "Up," he said, and I sat back on my heels, eyes down, looking at my hands. He ran his fingers through my short blue hair. He grasped it at my nape for a second, bringing me toward his cock, bulging in his jeans, level with my face. He let go of me and unzipped his pants. His strong fingers pulled me gently to him, and I parted my lips and swallowed as much of his cock as I could as he slid it into my mouth. More and more of the hard flesh passed my waiting lips, sliding along the slippery surface of my tongue. I opened my throat as best I could, trying to accept it all; I fought not to gag. I wanted to please him. He pushed my limits, fucking my mouth, his hand on the back of my head. He pulled back a little and I felt the smooth skin of the head, brushing the ridge below with my tongue ring. He sighed and I was encouraged, taking his cock into my throat again, as much as I could, swallowing around the head, my wet tongue running up and down the skin. All of a sudden, he pulled me away forcefully. I held my breath: had I done it wrong? "Stand," he said softly. I stood, my back straight, head down. "Get my riding crop," he commanded, his words clipped. I walked across the room, picked up the crop from the windowsill, and gave it to him as he had said, extending it to him in both hands, looking at the floor. "Good," he said. "Now get back down. All the way." I knelt and bent forward, my head resting on my crossed wrists. He crouched beside me, stroking my bare back softly with the crop. My nipples got harder. "When you are being punished, you will count the strokes aloud, as such: 'one, Sir-two, Sir;' do you understand?" "Yes, Sir," I whispered, afraid. "When I called you into the bedroom, you delayed before obeying me. Do you understand that you are being punished?" "Yes, Sir," I said. I heard the rushing sound of the crop before it struck me, and I gasped at the force of the first blow, more in surprise than in pain. He hit me again, harder, and I whimpered, unused to the sting of the crop. "Why aren't you counting the strokes?" he demanded, his voice sharp. "I'm sorry, Sir," I said, unable to keep the pleading note from my voice. Again the crop came down on my back, faster than before. "Three, Sir," I said. He hit my back, my ass, my shoulder blades; the blows came quick and hard, and I counted each one, quietly, my hands curling into fists. At ten he stopped, ran the crop down my back. "Good," he said, and I relaxed, flattening my palms onto the floor again. "Two days ago," he said softly, "you walked through five doors in front of me while you were wearing my collar. Do you understand that you are being punished?" "Yes, Sir," I replied, berating myself silently for such a thoughtless mistake. The tip of the riding crop caressed my bare back again, and I braced myself for the sting. When he hit me I gasped, "one, Sir," trying not to cry; I didn't know a little crop could hurt so much. It came down hard on the soft part of my ass, where the skin already stung. Tears leaked from my eyes. Again I counted ten strokes, and as he stopped I began to feel as though I could sink into the floor, wanting only to please him. I breathed deeply, calming myself, and became aware all at once of my hard nipples, my wet cunt, and the hot aching of my skin. "Up," he said, and I rose from the floor, straightened my back, still on my knees. He touched my hair gently, soothingly, and I leaned my cheek against his leg. "My good slave," he murmured. "You'll make me proud." "Now stand," came his voice, and when I stood before him, he slipped my underwear off and led me to his bed. Under the guidance of his hands, I lay down on the white sheet on my back, my sore flesh cooled by the fabric. He ran his strong, broad hand down my chest to my stomach, and sat on the end of the bed, spreading my legs and barely touching my labia. I arched my back, feeling his fingers intensely, a trickle of wet staining the bed. He smiled. "You're dripping." I closed my eyes, ashamed of how I had reacted to punishment. He touched me more firmly, rubbing the wetness over my cunt, and slipped one finger inside me. I cried out, my hands grasping the sheets, trying to stay silent as I remembered the pain that had ended not five minutes before. He brushed a wet finger over my clit, light as snow, a tease. I wanted to beg him to touch me. I looked over my small breasts at my stomach, muscles contracted, every fiber tense; I looked at his hand, his strong forearm; I didn't raise my eyes to meet his. He withdrew his finger achingly slowly, and I bit my lip hard. "What do you want, slave?" he said, kneeling between my legs. I could feel his steady breath on my clit, and all I wanted in the world was for him to have me, have whatever he wanted, but I didn't dare speak. I closed my eyes tight and breathed "please," not even sure what I was asking for. He laughed quietly and kissed my cunt, making me shudder. He licked my labia, his tongue flicking up over my hood, and I tried to stay still as he held me down with one hand, his fingers firm around my hipbone. One finger slipped inside me again and agonizingly slowly circled the soft tissue, reaching the perfect place and pressing gently, his tongue on my clit. I pushed my hands flat onto the bed, tasting blood in my mouth as I bit my lower lip, finally gave in and whispered, "please, Sir..." He knew my body better than I did. He held me still, a possessive hand on my ass, his tongue in all the right places, fingers pushing insistently upward, and suddenly I crumbled, my cunt contracting around his hand. His tongue moved to the hood of my clit, touching me gently, and I felt the orgasm in every part of my body for seconds, minutes, until he slowly pulled his fingers away and uncoiled his body from between my legs. I reached up to him, encircled his back with my arms, taking in with my eyes his soft tan skin, his muscles, his dark hard nipples. He slipped inside me and his cock felt perfect, a relief, a reprieve. My tight cunt could barely take the width, and I gasped as he moved it all the way into me: it filled me better than anyone else ever could. I rocked beneath him, my hands running over his back, triceps standing out in his arms as he lay above me, my fingers touching his shoulders, his throat. I glanced at his face and saw that he was looking down at me, his deep brown eyes fiery behind soft lashes. "Please, Sir," I whispered, feeling that I was about to cry, or come, or dissolve. "Do you want to feel your master come inside you?" he demanded. I felt a lump rise in my throat, tears blurring my vision. "Yes-please, Sir," I gasped, begging now in earnest; I wanted nothing more than to feel him come. "Look at me," he hissed, and I looked into his face, my eyes wide, locked with his. He thrust his cock into me hard and I clutched his back. He began to come and as I felt him fuck me harder and harder I came again, with him, sobbing, the walls of my cunt tightening on his shaft. I felt him wet inside me, viscous liquid filling me, slippery and hot. He kissed my face, kissed my eyelids, my lips, and relaxed his body onto mine, his cheek resting in the hollow beneath my collarbone. "My good slave," he said softly, "you did well." Inevitable Him I've had the same best friend since childhood. We haven't always lived close, and we haven't always been able to stay in touch. But from day one, we were...well, I hate this word with a passion, but it's the only one that makes sense. We were soulmates. We met in kindergarten, and from the moment she sat next to me on my bench and offered me her chocolate milk, she's looked out for me. It wasn't that stupid story where two five year olds think they're dating. We didn't see each other that way. She just seemed to sense how lonely and angry I already was, at 5 fuckin' years old, and she wanted to answer that unspoken need. She sat by me every day, until I finally thawed enough to thank her for sharing her milk every day. She smiled and told me her name was Zoe. "Chase," I mumbled back. From then on, it was simple. Chase and Zoe. Always together. As we grew up, her commitment to take care of me grew with us. She always seemed to know exactly what was going on in my head, what I needed or wanted, and without fail she came through for me. I once overheard my mother tell a friend that of her three kids, I was the lowest-maintenance one for her to raise. My older brother and sister were twins, and they were social stars. Loud, competitive, playful, energetic enough to get our dad's attention and to keep mom busy. Me, I kept to myself when I was home. Even as a child. I stayed in my room, drawing and reading and avoiding the chaos. No one seemed to mind, though, because Zoe came over every afternoon after she finished her homework, so clearly I wasn't some crazy child sociopath. I had a friend. Middle school fucked things up for a while, of course, because it was time for puberty and burgeoning adolescence and confusion. Someone started the rumor that I was gay--who the fuck starts telling people that a 12 year old is gay??--because I wasn't "going out" with anyone, and my only friend was a girl I wasn't "dating." Zoe didn't put up with it. I don't know how, but she ended that rumor fast. And I was never teased for letting her fight my battle, so I imagine she did something really painful to the kid. Didn't matter to me. I won't pretend that puberty didn't affect the two of us. I experienced my first wet dream just before I turned 13, when I woke up gasping and hard as a rock, Zoe's face in my mind. I didn't understand it. I finally found the courage to talk to my brother, who was less of a stranger to me than my father was. He was 16 now, so I knew he'd have some advice. I didn't tell him it was Zoe. I just told him about what happened. He patted my head and told me it was normal, good that it was a girl, and when I got a bit older, I should think about asking her out if I still found her attractive. The idea repulsed me. I was glad that it was okay to think about her sexually, but I didn't want to pursue it. If Zoe ever wondered about my sexual interests, she didn't ask. But God, did she turn out gorgeous. By the time we started high school together, puberty had done its job. She reached a nice 5'4, with thick strawberry blonde hair, big green eyes, full red lips, and a body that stopped the guys in their tracks. She was athletic, liking to take a quick job every evening with the border collie mutt her family owned. Big tits--not huge, but nice and big, able to hold their own against the queen bitches in school. Long legs that looked great in a mini-skirt as she bounced out of her house to my brother's car for a ride to school. I saw the way his eyes glided over her appreciatively. He was 18 when we started high school, so I wasn't too worried that he'd go for her. But it did give me pause. It made me stop and contemplate how hot my best friend was. The big problem was, try though I did to curb it, I was developing what were...well...sadistic tendencies. I felt constant anger, a bubbling frustration that made me want to punch something. Trying to get a grip, I asked my dad for a punching bag one year--the first time I think I ever impressed him. He hung one on our back patio. Most afternoons found me out there, stripped to gym shorts and sneakers, my hands wrapped and my body gleaming with sweat as I pounded all this inexplicable, coursing rage into the black and purple surface of the bag. Once I saw my mom watching from the kitchen, her face etched with worry. I think she assumed I was being bullied, or was conflicted about my sexuality, or something. But there was no real justification. I just got angrier throughout the day, until it was all I could do not to scream and smash something before I stripped down and got outside. Zoe saw this side of me emerge several times. We'd be doing homework in my room, and I'd suddenly grab one of my many stress balls and hurl them across the room. I broke the desk lamp once. She'd just arch an eyebrow, silently returning the balls to me. Another time, as we argued some trivial point about a movie we'd seen, I abruptly spun and punched my mirror, shattering it. No one else was home, thank God. Zoe didn't even seem afraid. She just took my non-injured hand and led me to the bathroom, washing and bandaging my hand. When my mom came home, I hadn't even opened my mouth before Zoe excitedly launched into a story about how she'd been trying to juggle my stress balls, and one had knocked the mirror down, and as I'd tried to catch it, it broke on the desk and cut me. I don't know why she lied, or why she wasn't afraid of the rage she could see in me. She just wasn't. As we neared the end of high school, it got worse. I started running with her, because the punching bag wasn't enough anymore. I'd wrestle with my brother when he visited home, and I could tell that my strength surprised him. One night when we were 17, Zoe called me, crying. She was at a party. Someone had tried to rape her, and now she was cornered in a bathroom, with her attacker in the next room. I didn't hesitate, driving straight over and going upstairs, ignoring the partyers who jeered and asked what "the freak" was doing there. I found him, leaning against the bathroom door and whispering about the things he planned to do to her. I could still hear her crying, and between sobs, I could hear her mumbling my name. The anger was so real, so powerful, that I'm still surprised I didn't black out. I grabbed him, flinging him to the floor and laying into him. Punching and kicking every inch I could. He started yelping and squealing, begging me to stop. Between hits, I managed to hiss out that this was what would happen to anyone who went after Zoe Lawrence. He was crying and moaning that he understood, he'd never touch her again. Suddenly Zoe was there, grabbing at my arm. When I glanced at her, she whispered, "Let him go, Chase. He knows now." I didn't want to obey her. But she said it so calmly; she wasn't scared of me, she wasn't begging for his life or anything. Just telling me to let go. So I did. I stood, and he scrambled away. I could hear people yelling out, but he didn't answer them. Someone peered around the door, staring at my bloody knuckles. Then they jerked away, and I could hear the story spreading: "Shit, that Daniels kid bit the crap out of someone! What, is he dating Lawrence? You know, Zoe...?" I felt her hand slide into mine. When I met her gaze, she swallowed hard and slumped against me. "You're gonna need to work on your anger," she said quietly, and I laughed at that. She was right. When we graduated, I made a tough decision. I joined the army. My parents were scared of me, and I knew it. My sister was living several states away, attending a fashion institute. My brother was studying medicine. I didn't know what I liked doing, and I didn't know what to try. Zoe was taking time off to do Peace Corps work, and as desperately as I wanted to stay with her, I knew I couldn't stand that. So, I enlisted. The day I flew out was the last time I saw her for seven years. She came to the airport with us. My parents hugged me quickly, and left before my flight did. It was Zoe who walked to the gate with me. I held her, and she tearfully begged me to write. I promised I would, and I meant it. And then, to my shock, she pushed herself up to meet my lanky 6'2, and pressed her lips to mine. I had never kissed anyone, and I'd never wanted to. I didn't lie to myself about my attraction to Zoe, because, well, who wouldn't fucking want her. But it was never enough to want to change our friendship. I just loved her every day, and jerked off thinking about her laughter and her dancing and her smirk and everything about her, every night. But then she kissed me. It wasn't a quick peck, and it wasn't just a friendly, albeit weird, goodbye. It was passionate; when I didn't pull away, she pressed closer, and when my lips parted, her tongue slid into my mouth, making my blood rush south. Her tongue teased mine, searching my mouth, until I finally raised my head, breathless. Our eyes met. "Zoe, what--?" "No," she said softly, placing one soft fingertip over my lips. "Don't ruin that. Go, write me every week, and swear you'll come back alive. Okay?" I blinked, and nodded. "I swear. Of course I'll come back." She smiled sadly. "Good. Then...I'll see you after." Stepping back, she kept smiling, watching as I slowly got my bags and boarded, gazing at her curiously. I couldn't have described to her the desires I felt right then. The longing to say fuck everything and stay, to pin her to the terminal floor and experience every fantasy I'd ever had about her. I left with an ache in my chest, wanting to stay. It's hard to describe the next five years. War is ugly, and serving is impossible to really describe. I was either in purgatory or hell for months at a time. But I found a way to use my anger and loneliness, and I survived. I wrote to Zoe until she stopped replying, and silence fell for a long while. Eventually I got a postcard from London, saying she was sorry for the gap, she missed me, and she loved me. Then nothing again. I never answered the postcard. When I finished my tour, I didn't move home. I wasn't even sure if Zoe was there still, and I didn't want to live with my parents. I got my own place, and got a job at an investment company. I molded myself to fit in the business world. I didn't want to have to think anymore. Slowly my life became about sealing deals, arranging meetings, running the finances, and setting up long-term contracts with clients. I quickly found my niche in this environment; it was cold, factual, and controlled. No emotions, no closeness. I talked, I signed papers, I shook hands. I earned respect. I looked damn good in a suit. And at night...well, I didn't mind the loneliness, but I got sick of the silence. Silence filled itself with flashback sound clips. Guns firing, men yelling and screaming, bones being cut, helicopters lifting dying men out of the warzone. Anger at my memories embittered me, and one night, I wandered into a club that catered to a very specific clientele. BDSM had preoccupied my thoughts for years. The sadism I'd felt in my youth never left me, and now it was a fire in my belly, a desire to hurt someone. But to make it pleasurable. I didn't want to be a serial killer. I wanted to dominated someone. To dominate the fuck out of them, quite literally. That club started it for me. I sat down in my pressed black suit, gazing around stoically, sipping a whisky, and very soon, I was approached. A woman in a short purple cocktail dress sidled up to me, waiting until I looked at her to come close enough to speak. She stayed silent though, and I felt a smirk settle on my face as I understood her role. "You may sit." Gratefully she sank into the chair beside me, watching me hungrily. I liked this already. My fingers traced patterns on the black leather of the chair I sat in. "What are you looking for?" She swallowed. "I'm a sub. I need a new Dom. But I'm happy with one-time things, too, if you're not looking for long-term." I chuckled, appreciating her honesty. "Well, I wouldn't say it has to be one time. But I'm not looking for a pet." The words somehow fell naturally from my lips, though I'd never spoken them before. "More like a booty call. What do you think?" I could see the hunger starting to shine in her eyes. "Unless I do get a Dom and he forbids me from continuing to see you, then absolutely." I finished my drink and stood, nodding. "Alright, then. Shall we go?" She jumped up eagerly, following me out to my car. I took her home with me, and that night, for the first time, I gave in to the need I'd repressed for so long, the need to physically abuse and break another living thing. I treated her as I'd once treated my punching bag, aggression and lust making me brutal. Every strike, and slap and spank, made her moan and beg and prostrate herself at my feet, wanting more. I fucking loved it. When I woke up, she was gone. There was a paper on the other pillow, just a sticky note with neat, curving handwriting: Thanks for a fucking amazing time. Call me. And her number. I smiled, tucking the note into my planner/address book. There would be other nights with her, the woman who I addressed as "pet," never learning her name. I'd call, and she'd come over in whatever I assigned her to wear, and I'd beat her then fuck her, then wake up to coffee made and a note with the imprint of her lipstick on it. I didn't bother finding any other fuck buddies. She met my need, because to be honest, I wasn't trying to whore around. Even when I was with her, well, I was thinking about Zoe. I never told Pet that, of course. We had a good thing going. It was fun. Then, three things happened. First, I got my invitation to a high school reunion. Second, a few days later, I got a postcard from a city about 20 minutes away from my own, with a very short message: Heard you were back in the States. Got the reunion invite. Hope to see you there. XO. Zoe. And third, Pet called me one afternoon, breathless and sounding sad. "Hey baby...I'm sorry, I...um...I need to talk to you. Can I come over?" I agreed, knowing what she wanted to say, and respecting that she wanted to do it in person. Seated in my living room, fully dressed for the first time I'd ever seen her, she told me that she'd gone to the club where we met for drinks with girlfriends, and a Dom had found her there. He'd danced her into the bedroom, offered an incredible contract, and had overall just stolen her heart. Tears in her eyes, she asked if I'd forgive her for going with him. My gaze went to the postcard sitting on my counter, and Zoe's face rose to mind. It would help if I didn't have a submissive following after me, wanting to be fucked. I smiled sadly. "Of course, Pet. I told you when we started that I didn't want a permanent sub, and you told me you'd get a new Dom eventually. I'm glad you'll be looked after." She smiled back, getting onto her knees and crawling over to me, instinct in control. "Thank you. Can I say goodbye?" I chuckled and nodded, leaning back and letting her close. She undid my belt, opened my jeans, and took me in her mouth. Part of me was sad to be letting this obedient little thing go, but that was alright. I tangled my fingers in her hair, fucking her throat until I came hard, feeling her milk me with her tongue, swallowing me down. She stood, not resisting as I slid my hand up her dress, brushing past her thong and toying with her clit, slipping two fingers easily inside her and finger fucking her until she came, grasping my shoulders and moaning. I withdrew my hand and lifted it, letting her clean my fingers with her deft tongue. She brought me a glass of whisky, leaning down to kiss me one last time, tenderly, then smiled and slipped out while I sat back and drank. Eventually I stood, going to the bedroom and beginning to pack for the return to my hometown. Her "So you kissed him once. Think you'll fuck him?" I rolled my eyes as I folded my favorite dress into my suitcase, planning to wear it the day of the school reunion. A friend from the magazine I worked at sat on my bed, pawing through the photo album I had of my thirteen year friendship with Chase--more, if you counted the fact that he'd sent me a few from the army. The last few pages held those; him in his fine military gear, eyes darker and more firey than they'd ever been. There were a few of me, too, ones I'd printed to send him, before realizing that there was no point. I loved him still, but the time had passed. And then that damn invitation. Knowing he'd get one too, knowing there was one tiny window now, I couldn't resist. I got his new address from the school (I think they remembered us as the inseparable pair), and I sent him a note. He didn't answer, but I hadn't expected him to. I just hoped he'd show up. "Zo-zo." I snorted, glancing back at my friend. "Annie, I haven't seen him since we were 18. I was in the Peace Corps. For all I know, he's married now. Or dating. Or gay. Or something." She eyed the photos from the army. "Yeah, he ain't gay, sweetie. He kind of looks like a beast, though. He probably fucks like a Trojan." I giggled. "I was his first kiss, at 18 years old. Somehow I can't picture him having sex." Annie sighed. "Well, do him, please. You have to. Lifetime friendships like this are meant to end in sex. Possible permanent sex." Sealing my bag, I grabbed the photo album and sat next to her, flipping back to high schools photos. "Maybe you're right," I muttered. I couldn't pretend I hadn't always wanted him. He'd starred in my first wet dream...and every dream after that. He was the reason I stopped finding masturbation disgusting. Every brush of his long, tanned fingers, every dark glance of his smoky grey eyes...every glimpse I caught of the taut muscles of his abdomen and back from the hours he spent on that punching bag...the thought of him made me wet. I hated it. Sometimes he seemed downright a-fucking-sexual. But now, we hadn't seen each other in seven years. Hadn't spoken in over three or four. I didn't know what to expect. My only comfort was that kiss seven years ago. To my extreme joy, he'd responded positively, kissing me back with genuine desire. When he'd pulled back, I'd been thrilled by the lust in his eyes. But he was leaving. I shouldn't have waited. I'd been a coward. I still didn't know if he'd really wanted me, or if it had just been the shock of the moment. No time to worry anymore. I'd hopefully see him in two days. Them The reunion wasn't all that bad. People talking loudly...kids running around, how the hell did these people have time to have kids in seven years? Whatever. Chase sat to one side, sipping coffee and watching. If anyone realized who he was, they didn't say anything. Mostly he figured they just assumed they'd forgotten more people than they'd realized. Dumbasses. He hadn't mattered when they were teens. Who cared now. And then he saw her. Aside from changing her wardrobe to suit a woman of 25, Zoe had not changed. She was still beautiful. Her hair was longer, falling to her waist in a wave of amber. Her navy blue dress hugged every curve of her body, from her lean shoulders to her narrow waist to her incredible, toned thighs. Her legs went a mile each, and she wore a pair of sailor striped summer wedges that made her look like a goddess. Chase smiled idly. He was going to win her over. He waited until she'd milled about a while, socializing, smiling fakely at all these people she hadn't like before, and she didn't like now. Finally she retreated to the garden, sitting alone in the shade, and he made his move. Slipping around to come up behind her, he paused about five feet away, watching her sip at her lemonade. "I came back alive," he said softly. She jumped slightly, looking over her shoulder. When she saw him, her eyes widened, and she stood quickly. Her gaze ran over him, and he warmed beneath her scrutiny. He smiled as their gazes met again. "Did you miss me?" Inevitable Her lips parted, and a soft sound of laughter emerged. Darting around the bench, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Chase," she whispered breathlessly. "I can't believe it's you. God, yes, I missed you." He held her tightly, for one moment just loving the feeling of having her back. And then he became distinctly aware of her body pressed up against his, and he carefully disengaged, before she could notice the effect she'd had on him. He grinned down at her. "So, what's new?" She took his hand and smiled back. "Nothing, really. Writing for a magazine. Just...living. How about you?" He shrugged. "Business job. Live alone. All dull." There was a pause, and the tension rose slightly. He saw her pupils dilate, and he knew suddenly with certainty that she was remembering their kiss. He licked his lips, enjoying the way her gaze followed the flash of movement. Zoe swallowed. "Do you want to get out of here?" Her hand tightened on his, and though she didn't notice it, the front of his pants tightened at the heat in her voice. He smiled tightly. "Yes. I do." They left together, taking a cab to the airport. Somehow they had both known it would happen; neither had packed or planned to stay any longer than this. They flew back to where he lived now, and picked up his car at the airport. He took her home with him. In his apartment, Zoe looked around with interest. "Nice. Exactly how I pictured you. All black and white, stainless steel, cool and professional. Controlled." "There's the word," he murmured, setting their bags down. "It's about control." She saw the fire in his eyes and flushed, looking away. He smiled. "Drink?" "Yes, please," she said hoarsely. He poured them each whisky, sipping his as she down hers. She sank into one of the leather armchairs, gazing up at him hungrily. "Chase...do you...do you remember...?" He smiled wider, taking her class and putting them aside. "Yes, Z, I do." Her eyes lit up at his childhood nickname for her. "I remember our kiss. And I remember every fucking moment of growing up together, never acting when I should have." He crouched in front of her, surprising her, and reached up to cup her cheek. "I've wanted you as long as you've wanted me, Z. And now we're adults. Nothing's stopping us." She licked her lips, unconsciously tipping her head into his touch. "But...all your anger issues?" He frowned. "Ah. Right. I never did resolve them. I use them." His fingers tightened, curving around her chin and making her stay still as his gaze burned into hers. "I like rough sex, bondage and if I'm honest, a bit of sadism. I'm sorry, Z. I'll let you go if you want." Her eyes widened, and she slid forward onto her knees, leaving mere inches between them. "Did you watch how I handled you our whole lives? You asshole, I've been nurturing and meeting your needs all along! I wanted you to see that I could handle your dark side!" She shoved against his chest, hardly shifting him. "You fucking moron. I was always ready to handle that. Fuck, I bought handcuffs in high school, hoping you'd find them on 'accident' and it would start something." Chase stared at her. "You're kidding." "No," she said, laughing. "Chase, we are inevitable." Brushing aside his hand, she leaned up and kissed him for the second time. He let her lead it for just a heartbeat, and then instinct took over. Gripping her shoulders, he twisted around and slammed her onto the thick carpet he had paid for with this in mind. "You're not in charge," he growled at her, and watched with satisfaction as her eyes widened, and she obediently relaxed beneath him. Chase trailed kisses from her lips, down her throat, to the swell of her breast. As his tongue followed the line of her cleavage, she moaned and arched against him, mumbling incoherently. Chase grinned wickedly. Sitting up, he seized her knees and dragged them apart, opening her to him. Her eyes blazed as she felt his look her over, noting her clean-shaved pussy through the transparent black lace of her thong. He chuckled darkly. "Looks like you assumed I'd be seeing this." Her hips rocked needfully. "I desperately hoped." He leaned down and kissed her once. "So did I." Dragging his mouth back down her body, he pressed his lips to the cunt through the lace, feeling her writhe against his mouth. Tugging the skimpy fabric aside with one finger, he let his tongue play over her already soaking slit, up and over her clit. Above him, she moaned brokenly, her fingers twisting into his short hair. "God, Chase, please!" When his gaze rose to hers, still licking her deeply, she bucked her hips with a cry. "PLEASE, I need you inside me!" He laughed and straightened, shrugging off his jacket and undoing his tie. "It's not that easy, sweetheart. I'm going to have to break you, first." She stared at him incredulously, and he grabbed her hands, binding her wrists with the tie. "Now, shall I fuck you here on the carpet, or in the bed?" Zoe's eyes glazed over. "Here, Chase, now, please! Just fuck me!" Yanking her body up from the floor, Chase unzipped the dress and dragged it off her body in one movement, then slammed her back down. She gasped wordless approval as he shoved her legs apart again, but inside of touching her, he reached over to his coffee table, yanking open a side drawer and grabbing a vibrator. Turning it on, he shoved it inside her pussy, making her arch off of the carpet with a scream of pleasure. "Chase!" Laughing, he pulled out a flogger, then sat up, straddling one of her thighs. Her legs started to slide closed, and he struck, the flogger slapping smartly across her inner thigh. She jerked, staring at him in shock, and he smiled idly at her. "Keep those legs open, sweetheart." Obediently she kept them parted, but he could see the tremors from the effort of it. Pleased, he selected another toy--a linked set of nipple clamps. Teaching up, he yanked the cups of her bra down, and Zoe whimpered eagerly. Chase licked his lips thoughtfully. "Can't have that, now, can we?" he muttered, grabbing a ball gag. Before she could protest, Chase shoved it into her mouth, using a handful of hair to yank her head up so he could fasten it. Zoe screamed through the gag, but the lust in her eyes assured him. She was loving it. Now that she was properly silenced, he finished yanking down her bra, and attached the clamps. Just tight enough to pinch a bit. Perfect. Sitting back, he admired the state she was in. Her whole body shook from the effects of the vibrator. He chuckled, tapping the end of it with the flogger, making her jerk helplessly. "Better not cum, babe. I tell you when to do that." As her eyes widened in eager fear, Chase smiled, raising the flogger. A moan of joy tumbled from her before the toy even hit her, striking her breasts and tugging at the clamps. She groaned and writhed, battling her orgasm. Chase laughed out loud, shrugging off his shirt and enjoying the power he had over her. Eventually the stripes he left across her tits weren't quite enough. Getting up, he rolled her over and dragged her ass into the air. The vibrator was still going, and her juices flowed down her thighs, drenching her thong. He kissed her ass, stroking it as she moaned. "Let's redden this a bit, too," he murmured, and she groaned deeply, arching back in supplication. Quickly he moved, grabbing a riding crop and lashing out. The blows came hard and fast, leaving long red lines across her ass cheeks as she shuddered and moaned gratefully. After about 20 hits, however, she began to cry out, speaking through the gag, and Chase paused, listening. He smiled again. "Is that you begging to cum, sweetheart?" As she nodded vehemently, he laughed eagerly. "Oh, I love it. Perhaps I'll let you." Tossing aside the riding crop, he untied her hands. "What would you like, Z?" She did not hesitate, or even try to remove the still busy vibrator. Spinning around, she undid his pants, and he watched with interest as she freed his cock, then immediately took it deeply into her throat. He sighed in pleasure, watching his beloved Zoe take him in, expertly working him toward orgasm. As he neared his climax, he grasped her hair and pulled her up. "No, sweetheart, I'm going to cum inside you our first time. As her eyes lit up at this, he grinned and released the ball gag. "On your back, Z." Eagerly she fell back, exposing the vibrator still buried in her cunt. Chase snorted, amazed. "And you've held off an orgasm? Bravo, sweetheart. I'm impressed." He yanked the toy out, making her squeal. "Don't worry, I'll fix that," he muttered, spreading her legs wide. "Are you on the pill?" At her nod, he thrust inside her, hard. Her keening cry was enough to shatter his thoughts, and he lost himself in the task of pounding into her, fucking her hard until they both came, his name on her lips. A long while later they lay together in his bed, tangled in the sheets. He kissed the top of her head. "I'm glad this finally happened, Z." She smiled, leaning up to kiss him. "Me, too. I meant it, you know. It was inevitable." Chase grinned and lay back, loving the warmth of her body pressed up against him. Yes. From the first time the feisty 5 year old had sat boldly beside him on a playground, it had been set in stone. Eventually, he knew, he'd be able to find the words to describe how much he loved her. For now, though, he could at least show it. Inevitable Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Anger Management Her. She was waiting in the dark, hardly daring to breathe. The fabric of the office chair was scratching against the bare thighs, and cool air from the ceiling fan rotating lazily overhead left her incredibly aware of her own nudity. The heat of her arousal battled the chill of the relatively cool room as she waited for his arrival. Zoe had been editing a piece for her magazine when she'd gotten a text from The Boyfriend (as her friend Anna referred to him). She knew Chase intimidated her co-workers, and the thought made her smile. He was not a threatening man, and he'd never hurt anyone, she knew. He just had...anger issues. Which they had found their natural way of working through together. She knew how he worked; he'd been back in her life for over a year now, and they had been as inseparable as they were as kids. They were only 20 minutes apart (thank you, universe), so it took little effort to begin dating formally, which hadn't come as a surprise to their families. But though she'd gotten a happy phone call from his mother--who admitted that she'd assumed he was gay--and texts from his older siblings--his sister was glad he'd accepted his feelings for her, and his brother wanted to know if Zoe was the one he'd had dirty dreams about as teenager. Charming--Zoe worked hard to keep the details of their love life secret. Because just like in high school, when she'd have rather jumped in front of a bullet than let his family see how violent he could be, she knew how to meet his needs. Hence her current position. He had been short and to the point in his text: *Shit day. Be waiting for me at 4.* She hadn't hesitated; she's excused herself for the day, and driven across the city to his apartment. Dropping the temperature the way he liked it, and dimming the lights. She had stripped and left her clothes in his closet, and had taken a seat in his home office chair. When he entered, he would find her exactly as he liked her. Vulnerable, submissive, and aching for him. Him. Chase cracked his neck impatiently as he rode the elevator to his top-floor apartment. It had been a long and dull day filled with paperwork that bored him, and he was strained to breaking point. A year ago, he would have had to channel this kind of build-up into a punching bag in the gym down the road. Now, he had something much better. A sinful smile touched his lips. Entering his home, he locked the door behind him. The AC hummed gently, and the cool hair caressed his skin, as teasing as the woman who'd set the thermostat. Chase inhaled, able to detect her perfume lingering on the air. Excitement slid through him, heating his skin and making the front of his black work slacks markedly tighter. He strolled leisurely back to the master bedroom, discarding his briefcase, sports coat, shoes, and socks as he went. By the time he reached the bedroom doorway, he was in his slacks and black dress shirt, barefoot, rolling his sleeves casually up to his elbows. At the door he paused, taking in the sight of the woman who had possessed his heart since childhood...and who had convinced that he even still had one. She was the one person who knew and loved both sides of him--the cool professional who spoke rarely and focused on work...and the Dom who needed to own her mind and body with control that bordered on sadism. Per his request, Zoe was awaiting his arrival in style. Naked except for the black stilettos he'd bought her, a blindfold, and a pair of diamond earrings. She sat with her legs crossed gracefully, hands resting on the armrests. A coy smile curled her lips. She knew he was there. And she couldn't wait for him to act. Them. He leaned on the doorframe and smiled. "Isn't this a pleasant welcome home." At his words, she picked up what was concealed in the gap of her thighs and raised her hand: his cuffs. He chuckled, crossing the room and taking them from her. "We'll that's a bit assertive, isn't it, sweetheart? Telling me what you want?" She grinned impishly. "I didn't say anything. I just...implied." He snorted. "Well lucky for you, my plan involved these anyway. Otherwise...you'd be in some very big trouble. I don't take orders. I give them." Zoe shivered pleasantly at the aggression in his voice. She knew he'd never really lose his grip when he was with her. So she loved provoking his violent side, and seeing the mask evaporate to expose the carnal man whose only goal was to single-mindedly possess her. Without another word Chase walked behind the chair, carefully cuffing her wrists. For a moment he stood there, gazing down over her body. His left hand rose, his fingertips coming to rest on her cheek before beginning a careful, delicate descent downward. Down her throat, over her collarbone, around her breast--she shuddered with longing, but he didn't stop there--down her stomach to her still-crossed legs. His palm smoothed over her knee, and then he gently shoved against it. "Spread your legs," he whispered into her ear, and another shudder ran through Zoe. Obediently she uncrossed her legs and let them slide apart, baring her cunt for his view. His fingers skimmed her pubic mound, enjoying the smooth shaved skin, and she whimpered. "Chase, please..." He let out an amused breath, his lips brushing the soft spot beneath her ear. "Begging already, sweet? That's unusual. You're normally so...difficult to break." He tapped his fingers against her inner thighs, smirking when she squirmed, inhaling the scent of her rising lust. The moisture from her pussy was beginning to coat her thighs. Gathering her juices on his fingers, he reached up abruptly and shoved first one finger, then two, into her mouth, making her gasp. He thrust in and out of her mouth a few times, mimicking the motion of fucking it. Zoe gave a guttural moan, sucking hungrily at her own taste on his skin. Chase's right hand snaked up to close around her throat, gently, savoring the feeling of power it gave him to have control over her air intake. Memories of fantasies from before he'd gotten her back drifted through his mind, and he smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck. "When I was in the army, Z, I'd dream of coming home to you bound and blindfolded...waiting for my touch, my voice...mine to own. I dreamed of a thousand ways to claim you." Zoe's head fell back against his shoulder, and she let out a breathless moan. "I am yours, Chase. I always was." He reached up and pinched her nipple hard, and she yelped and arched her back needfully. "Chase!" Her gasps became louder and more frenzied as he attached clamps, tightening them a little above her pain threshold, loving the way she groaned and leaned into his touch, taking the pain he gave with no hesitation. She was a perfect match for his desire to inflict damage. Reaching behind him, Chase grabbed the vibrator from his desk drawer--her favorite of his toys. He switched it on, watching with immense pleasure as the sound caused her to jerk against her restraints, a needy whimper escaping her. Smiling, he stepped around in front of her and knelt. Leaving the vibrator buzzing between her knees, he yanked a spreader bar from under the bed and set about securing it to her ankles, forcing them as far apart as was comfortable. She was shaking with anticipation as cool air flowed over her dripping slit, and the vibrator continued to roll against her knees. Crouching up between her spread legs, Chase smiled and kissed her thighs, lapping up the fine sheen of sweat gathering on her pale skin. He licked his lips. "I'm going to taste you, sweetheart." Her hips jerked in the chair, and he could hear the cuffs rattle roughly as her hands flexed. "But first I want you to be cumming." He picked up the vibrator, sliding it along her leg until the humming tip was brushing against her swollen clit. Zoe growled and tried to push against it, but he kept it just out of reach, taunting her. He found the flogger with his other hand, standing up to trail it across her stomach, making her writhe. Her legs spasmed, and the moan that fell from her lips was so raw and primal that he had to kiss her. His tongue scoured her mouth, and she suckled it hungrily. Then she yanked away with a scream of pleasure as he swung the flogger again, striking her open pussy. Another strike, and then another, and Zoe threw her head back, her whole body jerking. "Chase! Please! I need to cum!" He laughed, dropping back into a crouch and grasping the vibrator, lifting it and shoving it inside her. Zoe bucked against the invasion, squealing in bliss as the vibrations rippled deep inside her. "Chase, oh my God, yes, please!" As she shattered around the toy's ministrations, her cunt flowing with moisture, Chase leaned in and pressed his mouth against her slit. Zoe groaned deeply, her orgasm going on and on as he skillfully suckled and tongue-fucked her soaking pussy. He withdrew as she came down from the high, licking his lips with a pleased sigh. The sight of his Zoe completely undone, falling apart at his touch, was the greatest catharsis he would ever find. He reached behind her with one hand to release the clasp of the cuffs, and they fell away. "Look at me," he whispered, and she obediently reached up to tug off the blindfold, letting it fall as well. Her eyes were bright as she grinned down at him. His hand rose to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it. "How shall I get off?" he asked with a smirk. "Missionary? Doggy? Fucking your gorgeous little mouth?" Zoe was quivering, not acting on her desire but longing to. She was wired, and he could see it in her eyes. He knew how he wanted her. He grabbed her wrists, jerking her body forward on the chair, loving her gasp as her skin rasped over the chair fabric. Grasping her chin, he forced her to look him in the eyes, knowing his were blazing. "You're going to ride my cock." Zoe trembled with need, trying to kiss him, but he held her back. "And I'm going to cum inside that hot, tight little pussy of yours, so you won't forget who you belong to. Okay?" Zoe mumbled an incoherent agreement, and Chase gave her clamped tits a sound slap, making her yelp. Her eyes glazed over with submissive longing, her lips parting in small, breathless pants. Chase smiled coldly. "Let's try that again, baby." His hand slipped down to cup the mound of her pussy, two fingers thrusting inside. Zoe let out a keening cry, riding his hand roughly. With his other, he loosened the clamps just enough that when he yanked on the chain, they popped off, producing another desperate yelp. Zoe stared at him with wonder in her eyes, waiting. Chase withdrew his fingers, reaching up and shoving them in her mouth again. When she had sucked them clean, he dropped his hand and gave her cheek a loving pat. "Once again: okay, baby?" Zoe's smile was breathless and radiant. "Yes, sir." Grabbing her wrists, he fell onto his back on the carpet, yanking her on top of him. Taking that as permission, Zoe straddled him, her fingers fumbling to unclasping the buttons of his shirt. Her lips blazed a trail from his throat to his waistline, his fingers tangling in her russet blonde hair as she moved lower. She made quick work of his belt and pants, groaning in pleasure when she found that he was bare beneath them. Freeing his cock, she gave it a leisurely lick from base to tip, then slid the whole length into her mouth. Chase groaned and arched into her mouth, thrusting a few times before he yanked her up by a fistful of her hair. Their eyes met, lust surging between them. "Mount me," he snarled, and she obeyed without a word, crawling forward and sinking easily down onto him. She rose onto her knees, writhing above him with abandon, and Chase lost himself in the sensation of her warm body over his, absorbing her pleasure from him. At last they came together, her orgasm causing her to collapse limply onto his chest, and he wound his arms around her. After a long while their panting and gasping calmed, and he smiled and kissed her hair. "Well, that was...relaxing. Thank you, sweetheart." She grinned against his bare chest, kissing the flesh under which his heart was drumming steadily. "My pleasure. Really." Beaming down at him, she kissed his lips once, then slowly pried herself off of him. "I'll make us something to eat, alright? Want some wine?" He chuckled as he adjusted his clothing, moving to put away the toys. "You are the perfect woman, Z. I'd love some." He glanced at a photo sitting on the desk, of he and Zoe at a fair several months before. He smiled at how in love they looked. "I love you." Zoe laughed in the kitchen, the sound like music to his ears. "I know you do." As he picked up his scattered clothes in the hallway, his cell phone rang from his jacket pocket. Zoe fished it out as she handed him his wine, and he frowned as he saw a blocked number on the screen. Shrugging at Zoe's questioning look, he raised the phone to his ear. "Chase Daniels." There was a choked sob, the sound of running footsteps--high heels, it sounded like--and the voice on the other end of the line was panting in what sounded like sheer terror. "Sir....Chase....help me, please..." Chase's blood went cold, and he was vaguely aware of Zoe calling his name, taking the glass of wine from his nerveless fingers. When he found his voice, it was strained and alien to his ears. "Pet?"