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Rock and Water Ch. 01

By: justahole



As an avid Literotica reader, this is my first attempt at writing. This story will extend to at least 6 chapters (maybe more!), so please be patient with the first two as they are mostly backstory and character development, although chapter one will give you a little taste. I promise lots of hot and heavy scenes to follow!!

Also, I could not have written this without the support and guidance of FA_JF. Her edits, insight, support, and jokes pushed me to write as best as I could. She also saved me from making my characters do impossible acts, like having three arms.... Thank you also to STG for your kind words and support! 

*

For some it's the desert, for others it's the ocean. Myself, I find solace at the end of my weekly hikes. My destination is always the same; a waterfall. I'm blessed to live in the Pacific Northwest where there are no shortages of hikes or waterfalls. Alone with my dog, I can take in the sight, sound, smell, and even the taste of the air as water crashes off the rocks around me. It's here I can clear my head and breathe deep.

Most days I allow myself to linger just a short time before turning around for the hike home. Today I find myself getting lost in thought and settle up against an old tree; I'm cushioned by the soft ground cover. It is truly my "happy place," which is why the year before I had a black ink waterfall tattooed on the side of my right leg from, knee to ankle.

***

His words echo in my head, "It's time to move on."

I know Robert's words are true. It is time. For the past year, Robert has been my friend, and my Dom. He's been my guide and mentor as I've finally allowed myself to explore my most deep and hidden submissive desires. He also lives across the country and we've never met in person. We found each other online, at a time when both of us were recently divorced but not yet ready to jump into dating. We were both in our early forties, active, with a love of the outdoors. Jobs and children kept us both in our respective cities. He was an experienced Dom, who had the patience and strength to put up with a novice such as myself. Emails and phone calls have been the limit of our relationship, as we set up from the beginning.

We both agreed that if either of us became seriously involved in a new relationship close to home, then we would need to end our sessions. It was he who found new love first, and I'm happy for him. I knew I had clung to our phone sessions as a reason to avoid dating, and he knew it too.

We had discovered over the year that not only was I submissive, but that moderate erotic pain and verbal humiliation amplified my orgasms greatly. Names such as 'cunt' and 'freak' simultaneously embarrassed me and made my nipples tight and cunt leak. However, when he felt the need to really get into my head, to eliminate any question I might have of his dominance over me, he would call my cunt, ass, and mouth his 'holes'. He once elaborated that a hole is nothing but a void. Something that is not complete until it's filled. That imagery hit me to the core and allowed me to let go like nothing else could.

We also learned that nothing pushed me harder than orgasm denial, and that making him cum was my favorite reward of all. It had surprised me how satisfied and proud I would feel after sessions that I made him come multiple times while my own release was denied.

My thoughts take me back to our last session one week ago. On that particular night, we started the evening as we usually did. I was to wait for his call sitting naked on the side of my bed, legs together, feet flat on the floor, back straight, chin up. My toys were arranged and waiting on the bedside table.

Per Robert's order, a mirror was set up directly across from my bed. I was to look at myself until his call. A year ago, this was a struggle. Through his insistence, I've come to appreciate my reflection. The small lines at the corners of my brown eyes, the grey beginning at the temples of my dark brown hair, the slight sag of my once firm B-cup breasts, and the small roll at my belly. I once felt betrayed by all of these traits; now I recognize myself as a strong, attractive, and sexy woman. At 5'5", I am neither petite nor tall. Some men look right through me, while others find me desirable. 

The phone rang and I answered.

"Hello pet," his warm voice called through the phone. How it is those words could still make my core warm and my cunt wet after so much time made me smile. 

"Hello Sir," I replied, knowing no other words were allowed from this point on unless requested by him.

Sometimes he would launch immediately in to a session, while at other times he was more playful or inquisitive and we'd chat about our days, our work, and our struggles adjusting to life as singles. At those times his voice would be soft and his laugh open and infectious. I'd find myself leaning back on my bed relaxing in to the phone call as if talking to an old friend. More often than not, I would be caught off guard when I'd hear the almost imperceptible change in the tone of his voice, along with the return of his command over me. 

On this night there were no questions. No idle conversation. We both knew this was to be our last session, and perhaps our last conversation altogether. It was bittersweet for us both, but we knew our friendship was too entwined with our desire for each other to reasonably continue without him feeling unfaithful to his new girlfriend.

"Is my cunt wet for me?" he asked softly.

"Yes Sir." In fact, I'd been wet and anxious since coming home from work. The bed sheet was undoubtedly soaked where I sat.

"Good girl... but that's enough words for now." He went on, "medium vibrator in your mouth, NOW." His deep voice sent a chill down my spine.

Robert knew what I needed. As a news reporter for the local public radio station, my voice is my power. I have a smooth easy cadence, which can turn from professional to lighthearted to sexy at my whim. It is the voice of a grown, intelligent woman. The first time he took my voice from me, I don't think either of us realized how profound the effect would be. I felt more raw, naked, and vulnerable than I ever had. It became for us the most effective means of bondage he could offer over the telephone.

"Clothespins... get two. One on each nipple, quick."

I released the springs of the clips on to my tender nipples, feeling the tight pinch squeeze the sensitive flesh waking them up and causing my cunt to squeeze involuntarily. At first the pain was so acute that I caught my breath, but then it transformed to a warm flush over my breasts and torso and I began to breathe in small pants.

"Two fingers in your cunt. Slowly work them in and out. Stop at times to rub your clit a little then back to your cunt." I almost slipped off the edge of the bed when I slid my legs open and scooted forward to get easier access to my cunt. Grace has never been my strength. Robert heard my stumble on the hardwood floor and chuckled, but did not say a word about it.

"OK now... back to your clit. Keep rubbing it back and forth. I want it peeking out of it's little hood exposed for any torment I might choose." This kind of explicit and almost clinical talk both humiliates me and drives me crazy with need. My hips began to buck towards my fingers, my cunt and ass clenching as I began to feel my orgasm building.

"Stop" he ordered. I whimpered but complied. My ability to back off from impending orgasm has improved over the year. I know this makes him proud. I was so undisciplined at first, frequently coming without permission and suffering increasingly painful and humiliating punishments until I learned. He routinely began to edge me over and over again until I was sweating and trembling with need, willing to have my limits pushed further or reveal more intimate secrets just to be granted permission to come.

"Let's hope that vibrator is nice and wet. Take it out of your mouth and work it in to your ass. If you need to, you may use your sloppy cunt to get it wet first." Despite the crude words, I knew he was being generous by letting me use my slippery cunt to lube the vibrator first. I ran it up and down the length of my cunt, imagining it was his hard cock. I dragged it greedily against my clit, before slowly slipping in to my ass in one push. I let out a sharp gasp at the intrusion and heard his groan in response.

Through the phone, I could hear his breath quicken, along with the erotic sound of his hand working his cock.

I looked at myself again in the mirror. My hooded eyes stared back with a longing that was so dead for so many years. My legs were spread lewdly exposing my wet and swollen cunt, along with the perverse vibrator stretching my tight hole. The clothespins were sticking out from my chest and my nipples had turned a dark crimson red. My face and chest were flushed, and a fine sheen of sweat was covering my body. In that moment, I felt free from all of the self doubt and limitations I'd kept myself bound in for a lifetime. A lifetime spent trying to meet everyone else's rules and expectations. It was time for me to be true to myself. I was a strong and independent woman, but also a woman who needed and craved sexual submission in the bedroom. I knew now the two did not have to be mutually exclusive.

"I imagine that greedy little cunt of yours is twitching to be filled. Get your largest vibrator and start fucking yourself HARD."

No sooner had he said the words that I grabbed it from the nightstand and slammed it in to my cunt. I worked it quickly in and out feeling it rubbing the vibrator in my ass through the thin layer of tissue in between. I let my back fall back on the bed, propping my feet on the side and lose myself in the sensation. My orgasm was so close I could feel the crest approaching. I felt the phone drop off my shoulder and my eyes closed before I heard his voice calling to me.

"Corrine, STOP NOW!" It took me a few seconds to realize what I'd done, and quickly picked up the phone and sat up. I winced as the wet vibrator in my cunt loudly crashed to the floor.

Instead of anger or frustration with my lack of control after all this time, Robert broke out in laughter. "Really Corrine?" I heard him chuckle and could hear the smile in his voice. "Did you really almost come without permission? Tonight of all nights?"

We both knew it was a rhetorical question as I could not answer him. Instead I sat quietly waiting for the inevitable punishment.

"Ok then, I wasn't going to do this but you've left me no choice my horny little slut. Clip a clothespin to that swollen clit of yours, turn both vibrators to high, and DO NOT COME without my permission!" Now it was my turn to smile. We both knew this was not punishment. I gingerly clipped the clothespin to my sensitive clit, and threw my head back with a loud groan.

The sensation of both of my holes filled and vibrating quickly had me groaning and panting in frenzy. The tight pressure on my clipped clit and nipples sent jolts of pleasure throughout my body. My orgasm was approaching quickly and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold out.

"Ok my pet, now it's time for you to listen....". I closed my eyes expecting the deliciously lewd and lusty words he usually whispered in to my ear to send me over the cliff.

"This has been a year of breakdown and rebirth for both of us; a year of discovery and exploration that has meant more to me than you can know. In that time you've shared your passions, your fears, and your hopes. You've allowed me the pleasure of unlocking that sweet submissive woman inside of you, and now it's time for you to find a man who will love and cherish you. One who will accept your submission for the gift that it is. He is out there, and he will be the envy of every man to have you as his own. Promise me you will put yourself out there. Promise me now my pet, and then you can come."

His unexpected words slammed me to the core. My desperation for everything he wished for me swirled in my head while my body was writhing with pure pleasure. I yelled out, "I PROMISE!! " then came with such force that tears exploded from my eyes and I kept murmuring as I rode the wave "I promise.... I promise... I promise..." My body lay limp on the bed as I cradled the phone to my tear stained cheek.

I heard him groan with his release, then a quiet "goodbye Corrine."

"Goodbye Robert."

***

A black, wet nose rouses me from my thoughts. It's beginning to get late and I need to hike the few miles back to my car. I throw a stick for Griffin a few times, then finish off a bag of trail mix and smile to myself. I can't be sad for our goodbye. I learned more about myself and my needs in the past year than after 13 years of marriage. I look on to the water crashing off of the rocks and smile. Rock and water. Hard and soft. The rock changes the course of the water. The water smoothes the rough edges of the rock. The two need each other to create this beautiful union. That is what I want in my life, and I know he's out there. 

Rock and Water Ch. 02



Thank you for all of the wonderful comments and support for R&W chapter 1! Sparks begin to fly this chapter, but nothing too heavy yet. I promise chapter 3 will bring it on...

Thank you again to FA-JF. Couldn't do this without you! 

*

As promised to Robert, I put myself "out there" again. Over the next few months I joined two dating sites. The first was one of the more mainstream sites many of my friends had used over the years, the other was a site aimed at introducing adults who were in to more alternative lifestyles and kink. I had a few nice, bland dates with some men from the first site but no sparks developed from any of them.

The second site was filled with men looking for either one night stands, or men who wanted to "own" me despite the fact that my profile indicated I preferred independence outside of the bedroom. Most of all, at 42, I was discouraged by the lack of men my own age who were interested in dating women above the age of 30.

Ah well, I mused, it was worth the try but perhaps it was time to shut down my profiles and take a break from dating for a while. It was leaving me frustrated and feeling more alone than ever.

I also needed to start planning my summer. My 12 year old daughter would be leaving in a few weeks to stay with her father in London for 2 months. Frank had moved back to his native country after the divorce, and Addie stayed with him over the summer and winter breaks.

He's a good father, and moving so far from his daughter has been very difficult for him, but his family business needed him. He visits Addie a few times through the year in addition to seeing her when she traveled to him. Our fire died long ago, but Frank and I had parted as friends and continue to co-parent together amicably.

I'd used the time apart from Addie the previous summer for an investigative journalism project I had wanted to do for years. It had taken me to southern Sudan to interview an international team of midwives striving to establish improved prenatal care and help lower the staggering birth mortality rates. The experience had been difficult but inspiring.

I'd hoped this summer to begin a new project, but decreased funding for public radio had limited any new stories. In fact, I'd been encouraged to take some time off for myself while they aired a few weeks of my "best of" clips.

It was just as well. My three bedroom bungalow was in dire need of a makeover. For years I've dreamed of a gourmet kitchen, complete with stained concrete counters, Mexican tiled backsplash, Viking range, and new cabinetry. I'd taken a class years prior on tiling, but the rest I'd need to contract out. In the end, I decided to take a "stay-cation."

***

My radio show airs in the late afternoon. This gives me time in the morning to walk Griffin, read the paper over coffee (I still prefer the crinkle and smell of newsprint over the glare of a screen), then go to the gym which is where I find myself now.

I try to make it here at least 4-5 days a week, unless I have time to work in a hike instead on one of my days off. It's a large gym that gets crowded in the early morning, but by 10am the crowd starts to thin and there's no waiting for equipment. Today is no exception.

As I walk in, I realize how much I appreciate the crowd that prefers to come here rather than some of the other flashier gyms. Although there are a few women that dress as if ready to go to a dance club, most of us prefer good old gym clothes and practical ponytails.

Today I'm wearing spandex capris that just go below the knee, a sports bra, and an old, comfy t-shirt with a picture of Lou Reed on the front. Its neck is cut out to help keep me cool, but I also know it attracts a little attention as it tends to slip off my shoulder during workouts. I've got my hair up in a sloppy ponytail, although other days I'll wear it down.

Occasionally I run in to a friend and socialize a little, but mostly I go in, work out, then hit the showers. It wasn't until the past year that I started to open my eyes and notice the men, and more to the point, notice them noticing me. It startled me at first, but if I have to be honest to myself, I enjoy the attention.

More and more I find myself discreetly looking. There are many attractive men here, and seeing them taking care of their bodies and health is a turn on for me. My ex-husband is an attractive man, but took little interest in working out or taking care of his appearance during our marriage.

After stretching, I head over to bench to use some hand weights. The wall in front of me is mirrored, allowing me to watch what's going on in the gym behind me. As I start some bicep reps, my sight locks on the one man here I can't seem to keep my eyes off of. Sadly, he's also the one man whom I'm apparently invisible to.

I've been timidly watching him for months now, but he's never spoken to me, let alone even looked at me. Today would seem to be no exception as he takes a seat on the weight bench next to me and immediately begins to do his own bicep curls with hand weights that look ten times bigger than mine. I think about what else those strong, lean arms could do....

I try my best to stare forward and complete my set, but as if with minds of their own my eyes keep gazing at his reflection while he stares straight ahead. As always, I can't get over how my body reacts to seeing him. I've never been attracted to "pretty boys." I like men looking like men, with character in their eyes and callous on their hands.

He's tall, at least 6'2", with a lean, toned body. Despite no overt bulk, he exudes strength and quiet confidence. As usual, he's wearing long track pants and long athletic shirt. His sleeve is rolled up a little and I can clearly see the border of a tattoo on his left forearm just below his rolled shirt cuff, although I can't quite make out what the design is.

His short, disheveled hair at one time may have been a light chestnut brown, but it's now nicely peppered with grey. He has a strong, angular nose and soft lips perfectly framed by a well-trimmed beard, also dappled with grey. All that aside, it's his piercing ice-blue eyes under thick, expressive brows that catch my breath every time. Definitely not a "pretty boy."

At this point I've lost count of how many reps I've done and I realize my arms are feeling like jello. In my head I coach myself, "talk to him, say something... ANYTHING!" Instead, I put my weights back on the rack and sulk off to the cardio equipment feeling a bit embarrassed for myself. I take my frustrations out on the spinner bike for the next 40 minutes until I'm breathing heavily and my t-shirt is drenched in sweat.

Since I have the time to shower at home today, I left my car keys and wallet in one of the convenient smaller lockers that are along one wall of the gym. The lockers are the size of small cubbies, and stacked in columns of five. Of course the only one available when I'd arrived was up top, so I find myself on tiptoes attempting to retrieve my keys and wallet when I feel someone kneel below me to get to their locker.

A little annoyed that they couldn't wait until I'm done, I look down only to see those ice-blue eyes staring back at me intently. I open my mouth ready to say something but his gaze renders me mute and I clamp it shut abruptly. His lips twitch upwards a bit with my action, or inaction as it is. He continues to look at me in silence, almost questioningly. I feel a flush begin in my cheeks and work down my entire body until my head feels light and my legs become weak.

Staying on the ground looking up at me, he finally speaks, "I enjoy the days you wear your hair up." 

For a woman who uses her voice for a living, I can't remember how to speak but I also can't look away.

He continues, his eyes looking straight in to mine, "We have been watching each other, haven't we?" I think to myself, "we have? You have?"

Somehow I find my voice again, and quietly say, "I've never seen you looking at me."

He grins a little and his eyes brighten. He teases, "so you admit then that you've been watching me?" I feel myself blush. Kindly, he continues, sparing me from admitting that what I thought was well concealed ogling was in fact blatant gawking.

"I've enjoyed watching you over the months. " His smile drops a little. "Although it took a while for you to notice me." He pauses, perhaps to see if I'm ready to speak but I'm back to staring mutely down at him. His gaze slowly moves down my body until it rests on the waterfall tattoo spilling down the side of my right leg. "I especially enjoyed when you first came in with your new tattoo. It's a large piece; it couldn't have been easy for you."

Gently he reaches out his hand and with his knuckle caresses the outline of my ankle bone where the waterfall crashes down on to some rocks. A deep shiver travels down my spine.

"This area is very, very sensitive. It had to have been incredibly painful for you."

Without thought to what I'm saying, I reply "I can take pain."

His smile drops altogether and his eyes widen. He looks up at me pensively. Slowly his tongue wets his bottom lip before he speaks again. "I like that." 

Once again my mouth opens but I can't speak. What is wrong with me? I feel my flush deepen and I hear him slowly let out his breath. He stands, just inches from me, and is now looking down at me. His voice lowers just bit as he leans in even closer, quietly adding, "The color on your cheeks is incredibly sexy." He pauses, then adds, "I may have to find other ways to bring it out."

We continue to stand there, our eyes locked on each other's before he shakes his head a little and his warm smile returns. This small action puts me at ease and I feel my body relax and brain kick in again. I can't believe the effect this odd conversation is having on me.

He reaches for his wallet and pulls out a card and hands it to me. On it reads, "Patrick Eberstark -- Master Carpenter," along with his bonding license number, phone number and email address. The card is warm, grainy off-white with deep brown lettering. The writing is centered between a picture of an axe and an old oak tree.

He reaches out his hand and introduces himself. His hand is warm on mine; with a gentle pressure that while soothing is also stirring something deep inside of me. Something that no date I've been on for the past few months has even come close to. It's almost like a current is running from his hand to my body, causing all of my senses to be heightened.

I hesitate before answering. "Corrine Spiros.... It's nice to meet you."

His hand still on mine, he turns his head slightly and looks at me first in question, then in recognition. "I knew I recognized that voice. You're Corrine Spiros of 'Northwest News and Beyond.' I listen to you every day while I'm working." This time it's his turn to appear a little flustered. "I appreciate the care you took to represent both sides of the Oregon logging industry. It's rare to find balance in the media anymore. "

"Thank you, Patrick, I..." as I start to speak I realize his hand is still holding mine. In truth, I'm so hyper-aware of his touch that I can't seem for form a sentence! Never has a man affected me like this, not even my husband when we first met. I'm usually so self-assured and confident. With my pause, he looks down and appears surprised to see his hand still on mine. He releases it and takes a step back.

I instantly miss the contact, but his hold on me was becoming distractingly warm and I was having difficulty forming any clear thoughts. I think, "come on Corrine, you can do this..." Finally I find the words,"I truly appreciate that. It's a tender topic for most Oregonians, on both side of the debate. Both sides were so passionate about the land, and it became clear to me that they shared more common ground than not. I'd hoped to impart that to my listeners." I'm a bit embarrassed now for rambling on, but realize he seems in no hurry and is listening attentively to everything I say.

"You did Corrine, if only speaking for myself." I enjoy hearing him say me name. He pauses briefly, then continues, "It looks like you're wrapping up too. Can I walk you to your car?" I feel like I've just been asked to the prom.

"That would be great," I reply, trying to tamp down my eagerness in my voice.

In an attempt to calm my jitters, l fumble in my locker for my keys and wallet, only to push them farther back beyond my reach. Quickly he's behind me, his body pressed against mine as he easily reaches past me in to my locker for my things. I hold still, as his warm breath tickles my ear and his hard body contacts my own. I feel my cunt clench involuntarily and my breath catch. Time is standing still as neither of us moves for far longer than this small gesture of help is warranted. Slowly he steps back and I turn around. At first I look down, trying to compose myself, only to look up and see his eyes locked on me, looking darker than I've ever seen them. The black of his pupils is just barely ringed by that bright icy-blue iris. His scrutiny is both unsettling and exciting at the same time. Eventually Patrick closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and when they open they are once again bright and warm.

Neither of us need to stop in the locker rooms so we walk together quietly to the garage. It's a bit awkward, and I feel the need to escape in to the safety of my car as quickly as possible. My heart is racing and my brain is spinning from just this brief interaction. My job often puts me in contact with attractive and powerful men, but none have ever had this effect on me. We are almost to my car and I so wish I could think of something to say. Even with my recent dates, I feel so out of practice at this, so hopeless. He, too, appears lost in thought.

As we approach my car I turn to say goodbye, but before I can he continues on and leans against the driver side door, effectively keeping me from my planned escape. I can tell he knows this too by the smile playing on his lips. 

"Please don't take off and pretend this didn't happen, Corrine." My mouth opens to speak but I just can't form the words. I'm so afraid of making myself vulnerable again that I feel paralyzed. Thankfully he goes on, "for myself, I can say I've wanted to approach you for months. Much of that time I had my own personal reasons for not doing so, but there was something about you, too, that held me back. You seemed closed off to everyone around you. I figured you must have a husband or boyfriend, but you had no ring and you were always here alone, including weekends. During those months I could feel you watching me. I'm not saying that to sound arrogant, only that it's felt really good and it finally gave me the courage to approach you today, despite not knowing if you were taken. Was I wrong to?"

He stays where he is and appears to be waiting for an answer. Words and emotions are tumbling in my brain, but somehow I come out with a few coherent thoughts, "No Patrick, I don't think you were. I'm just so lost here. I'm newly divorced last year, and aside from a few isolated dates it's been so long since I've felt attracted to anyone."

He smiles at that. "I'm attracted to you too, Corrine." A warm rush cascades down my body with those words. He continues, "I'd like to see you again. As soon as possible, really." His gaze travels to the Northwest Forest Pass on my window. "Tomorrow's Saturday, how about a hike in the Gorge, then dinner?" After the effect he's had on today, I can hardly imagine spending and entire day and evening with him.

It's obvious he picked an activity he knew I'd be comfortable with, and I appreciate it immensely. I enthusiastically reply, "A hike sounds great! One of my favorites is..."

He cuts me off before I finish. "Corrine, I'd like to plan the day tomorrow if you don't mind. Just dress in some good hiking clothes, but if you could, pack along your clothes for dinner. Nothing fancy, a sundress will do." I'm stunned. In all of my relationships, and especially my marriage, I've always been the one who had to plan everything, including every trip and anniversary.

His taking charge hits me deep in my core. Before I can speak he adds, "and bring your dog. There's plenty of room in my old Bronco." My confusion is apparent. How did he know? Without a word, he gestures to the back of my Volvo at the dog blanket covered in Griffin's hair. "But he'll have to put up with my mutt Guinness. He's small but a bit of a car hog."

As excited as I was to show him my favorite hike with all of its beautiful waterfalls and rock formations along the way, I feel myself accepting his plans and letting him take the lead. This is new for me. His confidence and command are both solid yet gentle. I can't help but wonder how it would feel to give myself over to him. Just the thought alone sends a flush through my body and I can feel my nipples harden and my cunt begin to swell.

As if sensing this, his body straightens and he moves with intent towards me. Gently he takes my left hand in his and begins to rub his thumb over my knuckles. As he does, I notice there is a small groove at the base of his fourth finger, where a ring must have been present at one time, not too long ago. My gut clenches and my eyes widen at this. It's unmistakable that he had a ring on in the not too distant past. One that had likely been there for a long time. I know it took my ring finger a few months to lose its tell-tale groove, but eventually it did.

I go to pull my hand back, but he quickly clasps it in his own, causing me to gasp and look up at him. He knows what I was looking at.

"Corrine, trust me. I'll tell you more tomorrow, but know there is no one else in my heart at this time. That's just not who I am."

I put on a slight smile, square my shoulders, and try to sound confident. "It's ok... You don't owe me any explanations." I try to sound casual, but I can't explain even to myself the conflicting feelings swirling inside of me. Is it jealousy over a man I barely know, fear that I could fall for someone who may not be ready for more than casual dating, or is it excitement that this man could really be as great as he seems? I remind myself, "breathe... Just breathe. He's only asking you for a hike and dinner."

This time he lets me pull away from him. I reach in to my wallet and get a card out. I unlock my car to grab a pen, and write down my home number and address on the card before silently giving it to him. He takes it and smiles as he reads it. "I just can't get over the fact that the hot, sexy woman I've been watching at the gym is the same woman I listen to and admire every day on the radio." He laughs, "I knew this city was small, but I feel like I just won the lottery!" 

"Ok, now you're just trying to make me blush." I say with a giggle.

His voice lowers and he becomes deadly serious. "Oh there will be no mistaking when I make you blush Corrine, and I hope to very soon." With that, he gives me a quick wink and begins to walk towards the stairs in the garage leading to the next level. He turns back and adds on, "Pick you up at nine am. Eat a good breakfast but don't worry about bringing anything, except maybe food for your dog. I've got it covered." I love that he seems to have thought of everything. 

I get in my car and try to look busy until he's out of view before I wiggle in my seat with excitement. Once again I feel like I've just been asked on my first date ever. I try not to dwell on why he was wearing a ring so recently. I'm tempted to "google" him and his business, but decide it's time to just let go and accept things as they come; to flow with the current. Perhaps it's time to let someone else take control...



Rock and Water Ch. 03



Chapter 3 is finally here. Thanks so much for the amazingly sweet comments! I think this chapter will please... All my gratitude to FA_JF for her ongoing support and patience! 

*

After leaving the gym, I confirm with my parents that they're picking Addie up after school for the weekend. I don't tell them about the date just yet. They moved to Oregon from the east coast when she was two since she was their only grandchild, insisting on being a big part of her life. It's been especially helpful since the divorce. As a single parent, it's a blessing to have every other weekend to myself. Addie leaves for London in 10 days, and this will be the last weekend they share together for the summer.

That evening after work I go out with my friend Johanna for our Friday night sushi ritual. Since splitting from Frank, Johanna has been my shoulder to cry on and my loudest cheering section pushing me back in to the dating world. She's crass and sometimes loud, but also one of the best listeners I know. We've shared everything there is to share with each other. I even admitted to her about my online relationship with Robert, kink and all, along with my need for submission in the bedroom. I'd worried she might judge me for it, but it was quite the opposite. 

Although Johanna doesn't share any of my interest in BDSM, she not only held no judgment, but wanted every juicy detail I was willing to share. Her marriage is blissfully stable with an adventurous and loving sex life. I've listened to countless stories of the risky public escapades she and her husband frequently engage in.

I tell her about meeting Patrick at the gym, and our date tomorrow. She ribs me a bit since I've brought "that tall, cute guy" up at least three times in the past few months, thinking each time that I'd never mentioned him. She also asks the question I've been a little afraid to confront myself with; am I truly ready for this? I think I am. I know my body is. I can barely contain my excitement about tomorrow. She's supportive, but goes on to ask how I'll feel if he's not in to kink, or even some mild power exchange in the bedroom. I'd thought about this too, and truly am not sure. It's something that I want so very badly.

With these questions in mind, I head home and try to get some sleep. Images of Patrick, and remembering his body pressed against mine at the lockers are swirling in my head as my body starts to betray my need for sleep. I turn on the light and reach for my purse on the floor and pull his card out. I stare at the words on the card, and even bring it close to my face to smell. It smells like paper and I feel a pretty silly but my body is coming to life remembering the touch of his hand on mine. My legs start to squeeze together; creating a delicious friction. My nipples press against the cool cotton of my old t-shirt.

I lie on my side and reach between my legs, cupping my pussy in one hand and squeeze. I let out a groan as my palm pushes through my panties into my swollen clit; moisture begins to soak my hand. My breathing becomes short and erratic as I continue to just gently squeeze my cunt and clit, imagining Patrick's strong had replacing mine; imagining him taking control.

I think about the toys in my closet, but my need is too great for them at this point, and I quickly tear off my underwear and plunge two fingers, then three, in to my sopping pussy. My other hand is up under my shirt pulling and twisting on my nipples causing both pain and devastating pleasure. My hips buck in to my palm trying to make contact with my wet, exposed clit as my fingers pump in and out of my hole. The hand on my breasts reaches down and begins to pull and pinch on my clit and my body lets go with a surprisingly quick and intense orgasm that shocks me. My body sated, I check my alarm one last time before drifting in to a deep and peaceful sleep with images of Patrick's ice-blue eyes gazing down on me.

***

The next morning I get up in enough time to take a long, hot shower. I don't really know what to expect from the day, but I take care to shave my legs and my labia until they're bare and soft. I trim the already short hair on my mound to a small, neat triangle just at the top of my cleft. I dry off and dress in some green hiking shorts and a black tank top. I grab my favorite, old navy blue zipped hoodie that advertises a local brewery on the back.

At just before 9am the next day an older looking, slightly beat up black Bronco pulls in front of my house and I see Patrick unfold his length from the driver's side door, followed by a scruffy brown and black Terrier mix. The sight of this tall, imposing man with this scruffy little dog that doesn't look like it weighs more than 12lb makes smile and relax just a little. I look at him through the window as he walks up towards my house. He's wearing some olive colored hiking shorts that go just above his knees, and black fleece over what appears to be a faded yellow t-shirt. His rugged hiking boots look well-loved, and well-worn.

His knock on the door sets Griffin off and his crazed barking then gets Guinness barking on the other side. Madness ensues as I grab Griffin's collar and open the door just before Guinness comes tearing in the house circling excitedly around us. Griffin appears stunned by the small, hyper dog at his feet, but then breaks free from my hold, throwing me straight in to Patrick's chest, and runs out to the front yard with Guinness in tow. The two race in happy circles, the smaller dog dwarfed in size by the Border Collie mix, until both collapse contentedly in the grass and look at us expectantly like they've been best friends forever.

After my graceless fall in to Patrick's chest, he quickly reaches out and his hands grasp my bare arms to steady me. His hold is warm, secure, and all too short as he takes a step back and looks down at me. "Are you ok? " He asks with concern. "I'd hoped there'd be less chaos having them meet before the car ride."

The heat of his strong hands on my arms lingers, and there's no question the chemistry I felt yesterday was not imagined. "I'm fine. I can't really blame my dog for my lack of grace. I'm really a bit of a klutz. I've even injured myself sitting in the studio while on the air. I'm truly hopeless," I say with a laugh.

"Well, I'll just have to watch out for you then, " he replies with a slight smile on his lips. "I've got plans for us later and they'll need you in one piece." The promise in his voice causes my gut to clench, wondering what these "plans" could be. "You look incredible Corrine. There's nothing sexier in my eyes than a woman in hiking boots." I look at him doubtful, to see if he's being truthful, and from the appreciative glint in his eyes I see that he is.

I grab my bag that has my sundress for later, some sunblock, and Griffin's food; we head out the door to his truck. The back seat is covered in old blankets for the dogs. They jump in and shuffle around. True to Patrick's word, Guinness hogs up about ¾ of the seat pacing back and forth, while Griffin tries to make himself as small as possible against the passenger door. The step up in to the Bronco is a bit high, and I feel Patrick just behind me as I climb in making sure I get in safely before he closes my door. The chivalry is refreshing after my recent dates.

He lifts himself in to the driver side, and we both buckle in before he takes off. With a little space between us, conversation comes much more easily for me today. We mostly cover the easy basics that most do on first dates, i.e. what brought me to Portland from the east coast, how I got in to radio broadcast, and a little about Addie. I learn that before he was a carpenter he had been a ski instructor in the winters, and a river rafting guide during the summers. A few injuries over the years, along with his marriage and need to stay in one place, guided his decision to turn his passion for woodworking in to a career.

Despite the light conversation, his body so close to mine is keeping mine on edge. After months of crushing on him from afar, it amazes me how easy it is to talk to him. I can't seem to drop the smile on my face or keep my eyes from frequently looking at him as he drives.

Patrick tells me that he has a cabin in the gorge, just on the other side of the river in Washington. I'm impressed when he tells me that he bought it after the original structure had burned down, leaving only the basic foundation. Over the years he rebuilt with his own hands, along with the help of some good friends. It sounds pretty rustic with the only heat coming from an old wood stove, but it does have running water and electricity.

"Depending on how our day goes, I'd love it if we could spend the night there." He pauses and looks at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm not going to be coy or shy about letting you know that I want you, but ultimately it's up to you. I'm not opposed to sharing the couch with Guinness if you'd be more comfortable, but I'd love to wake up there with you tomorrow and fix you my killer breakfast."

His admission of wanting me sends a delicious ache through my gut and my heart literally flutters. I love his bold and direct nature. I'm over game playing, and it appears he is too. "Wow, I'd...uh, I'd love to see your cabin.... as far as staying tonight, I think it would be ok. It seems a bit premature to plan sleeping arrangements quite yet though. I mean, hell, we haven't even kissed!"

With that, he pulls over to the side of the isolated forest road we've been driving on and before I can even speak he's pulled himself closer to me and cradles my face in his large hands. "We can remedy that right here and now Corrine. I've spent too many months wondering what your lips would feel like on mine. I'd really like to kiss you..." His last words come out as a low growl, and as he speaks, his right hand lowers a bit and I feel his thumb drag across my bottom lip. Without thought my tongue darts out and follows the path his finger traced.

I can't be coy either. I need this so bad. "Please yes... Patrick..." I feel his hands shift from my cheeks to the back of my head as he draws me to him. The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the intensity in his, and I expect his lips to crush mine. Instead, I feel the most chaste and delicate kiss caress my lips, then another, and another. His tongue gently begins to trace my lips, but does not enter. This tender kiss is igniting something dormant in me and I want to crush myself against him. I can't wait any longer and I push forward in an attempt to intensify the kiss, only to have him pull back and smile.

I am flustered and left wanting. He appears to know this, but I can see the effect the kiss had on him too as he unselfconsciously adjusts himself through his shorts with a low moan. He backs himself in to the driver's seat once again, leaning his head back on the head rest he lets outs his breath. "Holy hell, those lips are going to be the end of me.... I think I'd be happy to stay on the side of the road and kiss you all day, but I promised you a hike, didn't I?"

He starts up the truck again and we continue on. My body continues to tremble from the kiss. We both remain quiet for the rest of the ride. After another 20 minutes of forest roads, we pull up to the trailhead. I'm delighted that it's a hike I've been dying to try and tell him so. It's known for its beautiful views at the top, but also for its occasional rough terrain. Trail books recommend that it not be hiked alone.

Patrick parks the Bronco and we put the dogs on leashes. He grabs his pack out of the back and we leave the lot signing in at the start of the trail. A few other cars are already parked, but not too many so hopefully we'll have the trail to ourselves. With no one around, we let the dogs off leash and they tear up the path out of view, only to double back and check in with us. They repeat this pattern though the morning, occasionally jumping off the path into the creek for drinks of cold water.

We walk in easy silence with each other. Occasionally he points out a small hidden waterfall, or a tree struck by lightning, but otherwise we're both lost in our own thoughts. As the switchbacks begin in earnest I can feel his vigilance kick in as he walks closely behind me, occasionally aiding me over larger rocks with a hand on my hip or elbow in support. Instead of feeling patronized, I feel a warm glow inside knowing he's looking after me. With each touch I only crave more.

A few miles in, we break through the tree line into a meadow of wildflowers. The sun is now shining brightly down on us. The path continues upward through the grasses and I joke about breaking in to the "Sound of Music." The dogs disappear in to the tall fields; occasionally I can see Griffin jumping out only to dive back in again. I can't remember feeling so good in a long time. Patrick guides me off the trail towards a clearing and some old logs. I sit and straddle a log as he pulls out a jug of water from his pack. I hadn't realized he'd been packing along a gallon of water, along with the water bottles we'd already been carrying. He pulls out two portable water bowls and pours for the thirsty dogs.

He continues into his pack, pulling out a thick, plaid cotton blanket along with some food for lunch. I can't believe the spread he brought, including some ham and brie baguettes, a greek salad, a bunch of fruit, a decadent looking brownie, and even a bottle of red wine. He pulls out his camping dishes, then opens the bottle of wine, pouring it in to mugs. "Sorry for the unromantic wine glasses," he laments.

"They're perfect." I reply readily looking up in to his bright eyes. "The whole day's been perfect." He smiles at that,then before I know it he's behind me on the log with his body pushed against my back, his legs on either side of mine. His arms circle around my waist, he gives me a warm, almost possessive hug. I feel his breath on the back of my neck as he leans in closer to my ear.

"Corrine, it's been a bitch to follow you all day," he says with a low chuckle. "Watching your curves, the sheen of sweat on your neck... There's been twenty times I've wanted to pull you off the trail to devour you." His body against mine and the need in his voice completely undo me. Without conscious thought my body leans back in to his to rest my head on his shoulder. While holding one arm snug around me, he reaches the other behind my neck and begins to gently brush the hair of my ponytail aside to expose the soft skin behind my ear. My skin tingles as his calloused fingertips gently trace against it.

I close my eyes and listen to his breathing, enjoying the sensation of his hand caressing my hair, when suddenly his hand tightens its hold on the base of my ponytail. I feel my scalp tingle as he pulls my head to the side and lowers his mouth to my vulnerable skin. As his open lips contact my bare skin my eyes shoot open and my body jerks but his arm around me keeps me secure against him. His warm, wet tongue is against my skin, tasting me, before he unleashes a groan and then all I feel are his lips sucking at my flesh with less than gentle nips of his teeth. His hand fists even tighter in my hair and I feel myself arch in to him with a groan. "Yes," I think to myself. " He knows.

I want to turn around to feel his lips on mine but I'm immobilized by his warm embrace. He continues his assault on my neck, but I feel his hand release my hair then run down my arm, covering my own hand that I now realize has a death grip on my thigh. He coerces me to release the hold on my leg and gently but firmly guides my hand behind my head and without words instructs me to grasp my own hair as he had, holding my neck exposed for him. I do.

His kisses have stopped but he doesn't release me. I leave my hand in my hair; he doesn't instruct me otherwise. I hear Patrick breathing heavily as his arm around my waist pulls me tighter against him and he grinds himself against me. I can now feel his hard length straining against his shorts and into my backside. Juices escape my pussy and my panties get noticeably wet. His free hand is now on my hip, sliding down the top of my thigh to the exposed skin just below my hiking shorts. He stops and I feel his fingers tracing the soft skin inside of my thigh, just under the cuff, before he squeezes the flesh firmly. The constant pressure of his grip is just shy of painful; my mouth opens and I let my breath out in a low and raspy groan.

He too releases a low, guttural moan before releasing his grip on my thigh, leaving his hand where it is. My skin feels singed by the imprint of his hand, and I know if I look there will be a mark on my leg. He takes my hand from my hair and pulls it in front of my belly before grasping it in his own. "Did you like that, Corrine?" His breathing is fast and his voice low and steady. "My desire for you at this moment is a bit intense. I'm not sure I can explain it myself, but the last thing I want to do is scare you in any way." His embrace has changed from restrictive to warm, with his chin resting on my shoulder.

"Oh god no... not scary at all. It was.... It was unlike anything....ugh, I can't find my words."

"I want to do things to you. I look at you and your beauty, your intelligence, your sexy voice that I'll never be able to hear over the radio again without thinking of those lips on mine, and I just want EVERYTHING. More to the point... I want you to give me everything; all you've got. More. Do you understand what I'm asking?'

"I think I do, Patrick," I reply. "I... I want you too. So bad I can't think straight."

He laughs and swings himself around on the log to face me. My eyes can't help but look down and see the evidence of his desire for me swollen against the seam of his shorts. My tongue darts out and licks my lower lip and I look up. By the half grin on his face and the light in his eyes I know he caught me looking. "Ignore it," he gestures to his cock, "while I'm trying to be a gentleman it's got other ideas.... No worries though, I can control myself. I have other plans for us right now."

My eyes open wide, wondering what he has in mind. As it turns out, it's just lunch. We plunk down on the blanket and feast on the amazing food he packed. "Don't give me any credit for the cooking... I'm a 'foodie' that can't cook anything but breakfast."

"That's twice now you've mentioned that breakfast. You're raising my expectations pretty high!"

"Well, I'm a one-trick pony with my kitchen skills.... Hopefully I'll find other ways to charm and impress you so won't notice I fix you the same meal every morning." Every morning? The thought excites me.

After the last bite of brownie has been eaten down to the last crumb, he removes his fleece and balls it up. He lies down on the blanket, offering the fleece for me to use as a pillow, but I decline and remove my own hoodie to use as a pillow so he could use his. Before I lay down, I gawk at his exposed arms, along with the myriad of tattoos adorning them. I can now see clearly the tattoos on his inner forearms that I'd only glimpsed the edges of at the gym. They are the same oak tree and axe that are on his business cards. They are lovely. I ask which came first, learning that they preceded his business altogether by about five years.

The tail of a black serpent winds up his left arm. The tip of its tail curls just above his elbow, while the body winds upwards over his biceps disappearing under his t-shirt sleeve. "I got that in my early twenties. Thought it made me look tough. You can't see its face because of my shirt, but the artist made my bad-ass snake have 'baby blue' eyes. I caught so much hell from my friends that I almost had them changed to a darker color, but decided not to give them the satisfaction." He laughs, then adds, "they still give me shit about it."




Rock and Water Ch. 03



We lay there quietly, the dogs resting nearby as the wind caresses the surrounding wildflowers. He's taken my hand and is gently caressing it. His actions are soft, but I'm sensing some tension in him. Finally he speaks.

"Tell me about your tattoo. I know there must be some significance behind it." He turns on his side to face me. I've been lying on my back with my knees up, feet on the ground. He reaches over and begins to stroke his hand slowly up and down my calf, over the tattoo, as if in doing so it may answer his own question. 

"Well, it does.... on many levels." I pause, thinking of the best way to explain. "On the most basic level, I'm a total nature freak, especially around waterfalls. It's where I find my spirituality; my peace." I stop there, not quite ready to continue.

"Go on, there's more." His voice is firm; a shred of command underlies his otherwise calm request.

I realize now that I'm about to reveal more about myself to Patrick than I have to anyone besides Johanna. I worry that I may be wrong about him. That he'll think different of me after I tell him, but how can I not? I refuse to go into a relationship and not be true to myself ever again.

"OK...when I look at a waterfall, I see it for what it is. Rocks and water. It's so simple but so beautiful at the same time. The water is soft, so willing to bend to the will of the rock. The rock stands strong, but over time allows the water to soften its edges. The two elements come together to create something so much better, so much stronger than the sum of its parts."

His eyes leave mine as he looks again at my tattoo, his hand continuing to caress the skin. I go on. "It's a metaphor for what I want in my life Patrick, from what I want from a relationship. I've always had a drive to please, but in my marriage it took form as always trying to be in control, to always be in charge and make everything perfect. The more control I took, the more Frank gave me until it seemed he couldn't make a decision on his own. I lost respect for him, resented that he couldn't be stronger for me, and in turn... lost my desire for him too."

Patrick's eyes focus on mine and he asks me bluntly, "...and in the bedroom?"

"I, uh... well, it started off pretty fun, he was a good and attentive lover but not very adventurous." I look down , noticing my hands fidgeting in my shirt. Looking up I ask, "Do you really want to hear this?"

Without waver in his voice, or eyes, "Yes, go on."

"Um, ok.... Over the years my... my needs changed. Or maybe they didn't change... I think I always knew."

"Knew what?"

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "This is hard..."

"Open your eyes Corrine. Look at me."

I open my eyes to find Patrick has moved closer, propped up on one elbow. He reaches his other hand and gently rests it on my breast bone, two fingers on my pulse. His hand is hot. His eyes are focused on me. Warm. Accepting. "What did you know?"

"Ok... Just like in our day to day, I... oh shit this is hard... I was in control. If you asked him, he would never have thought that, but I was." I pause, hoping this is enough. One look at him and I know it isn't.

"I felt like I always had to take the lead, to set the tone.... He was always so gentle, so giving. I felt like I had no room to complain. I know it was my responsibility to tell him what I liked or didn't like, but honestly, sometimes a woman just wants a man to just....know. The thing is, I'd figured out early on that I like it, um, a bit rough. After hinting at it, he figured it out but when he was, I could tell it was only to please me. It didn't feel real... not to mention it was never really enough anyway." I feel shy sharing this, but I feel no judgment from him.

Patrick's hand on my chest subtly moves upward until it is lightly resting on the base of my neck. I don't feel threatened by it, but it does feel very intentional on his part. His eyes bore in to me, and he licks his lips before speaking. "It didn't feel real because he didn't know you what you needed. He didn't know you were submissive." His voice is measured and steady. "He didn't know your deep need to give up control." Patrick pauses, gauging my reaction to his words. His voice lowers but remains steady. "He didn't know how to use your body like a fuck toy."

I gasp at his blunt words. Shocked and excited to hear them, but so overwhelmed. My heart and mind start to race and I attempt to sit up, pushing away his hand. He allows me to sit up, as he does too, but restricts me from standing by placing his hands firmly on my shoulders.

"Corrine, breathe....." His hold on me is not painful, but it is clearly letting me know I can't run from him. I know I don't want to, but outside of Robert no one has ever spoken to me this way. No one knows how much I crave it; how much I need to let go...

"I don't understand," I stammer, trying to catch my breath and find the right words. "How could you know? I've always been told how confident I come off; how strong."

Patrick smiles, and pulls me in to his arms. My head rest on his chest, hearing his strong, slow heartbeat. "You are confident. You are strong." His hand caresses my arm rhythmically, relaxing me in to his body. "Being submissive does not negate those qualities. Honestly for me, they enhance it. It was your confidence and strength that attracted me to you in the first place, but it was the way you looked at me, the way your body responded to mine at the lockers yesterday that hinted at your submissive side. I took a chance just now by saying it. I'm glad I did."

"So, uh... does that mean that you enjoy, um, that you are..."

"Does it mean that I'm dominant? Yes." He allows me to absorb his words for a bit before continuing. "It's who I've been; always. From my earliest sexual experiences I realized I enjoyed taking control, but it was more than that. It was finding someone who would willingly give up THEIR control that had the most profound effect on me. "

"In high school, I never wanted to date a girl that was passive; who would agree with everything I said. I found it was much more satisfying to be with a girl that could hold her own, but then would submit to my will. It was that way also through college. In my twenties, I was relatively active in the local BDSM scene, which is...where I met my wife."

His hold on me subtly shifts. While still warm and comforting, I can sense some tension, or maybe apprehension. He continues, "She was everything I was looking for, really. Intelligent, ambitious, adventurous..." His voice is softer, a bit sad. "She claimed to be submissive, but early in our marriage she seemed less interested in the kink that I thought she enjoyed. I backed off, which was maybe my first mistake, but I'd hoped she'd come back to me on her own. Being dominant, being in control is who I am, but in the end she admitted that it had just been 'fun' for her to be submissive; just a role she had been playing."

"We'd always planned to have kids, and when I realized that might not happen I became withdrawn from her. When I wasn't, I was a bully. I think I was trying to take control of the relationship in any way I could and it blew up in my face. She left me for a business colleague last year." 

"Thank you for telling me Patrick." I'm still a little confused though. I look down at his left hand. His gaze follows mine to the indention on his ring finger.

"I can't explain why it was so hard for me to let go of the ring, but I only took it off for good around 3 months ago." He tightens his hold on me and rests his head on my shoulder. "I feel like I should tell you, I was a bit of a slut after my marriage ended. Always safe though, I promise. Mostly women I met online; occasionally from bars. There was one time with a personal trainer at the gym... I think I needed to prove something to myself. It was really pretty adolescent but oddly enough exorcised some demons for me. No kink; just straight sex. No dating either. Oddly enough, I kept my ring on during that period of time, only to remove it when I was done playing around a few months ago. I haven't dated, or been with anyone since."

I look up at him. "Can I ask why?"

He says simply, "I want more. I want a relationship." My heart skips hearing this.

"Oh."

"What about you? Have you dated since your marriage ended?" He brushes some loose hair from my face sending goose bumps down my neck.

"In recent months I did some online dating, but was never really interested in the men I was meeting"

"Have you had sex?" He asks bluntly.

I laugh. "Wow, that's direct."

He just smiles.

"Well, no, not really. But... kind of?"

"Toys?" He asks, perhaps a little overenthusiastically. 

"Um, yes... toys. But, there's more. As you figured out with your ninja/dom mind meld, I am submissive, in the bedroom anyway."

Patrick interrupts me briefly. "We still need to discuss what that means to you at some point."

"Oh, ok.... I fidget a little. "Anyway, I... uh, had no experience so I looked online, eventually finding a bdsm chat site. I met a man there, Robert, about one and a half years ago. We hit it off, but maintained our relationship online or over the phone since we were across the country from each other."

"And you never met during that time?'

"No. We decided early on it would be best not to. That it may keep us from meeting other people. In the end, he did, and so it ended." 

Patrick encourages me to tell him more about the phone calls, and I do. I don't know if it's his rhythmic caresses in my hair, his warm embrace, or how easy it is to talk to him, but it's as if I'm in a trance and it all spills out. The toys, the pain, the names. The compassion, support, and encouragement. All of it. Again, no judgment .

"When did it end?"

I tell him it was five months ago, and I see him do the math. "Although not in person, you had what sounds like a very intense dom/sub relationship with him for over a year. Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No. I don't. I'm very grateful for the time I had with him, but the boundaries we set from the beginning I think helped when it was over."

"Mmmmm.... I'm grateful too, that you've researched the lifestyle and embrace it. I also feel very, very lucky that I found you before you met someone else" Patrick lays us both down on to the blanket, then roles over on top of me, propping his weight up on his elbows. It feels delicious to have his body on mine and I squirm under him to create a little friction. "Uh, uh naughty girl," he says with a grin," unless you're trying to tell me you're an exhibitionist too." He nods to his left, and I can see some hikers coming over the hill towards us. I jump up abruptly, pushing him over as I do as he lays there laughing. I give him a kick in the ass, which just makes him laugh harder.

"Ok, ok...," he says. "I deserved that.

We pack up his sack as the dogs jump excitedly around us. The hike down goes pretty fast and as before, Patrick is there to help me during more technical descents. We reach his truck, pack up the dogs, and I melt in to my seat. Once off the forest roads, it's about another 30 minutes before we cross the bridge over the Columbia River in to Washington where his cabin is. There's a sweet looking, small town just a half a mile down the road.

His cabin is small and rustic, nestled in the woods a short distance off the road and away from other homes and cabins. It's surrounded by a mix of old Douglas Fir, Maple, and Hemlock trees covered in moss, with sunlight trickling through the branches. There's a small shed, clothesline, and a basketball hoop just to the left of the cabin, but otherwise it's just the trees.

We go inside with the dogs, who both immediately jump up on a very comfortable looking old leather couch before Patrick immediately kicks them off. Along with the couch is an old antique wood rocking chair with a Pendleton blanket over the back, and a coffee table with a surface made of slate tiles. A worn Kilim rug covers the living area, while the rest of the floors are hardwood, probably fir. Across from the couch is a wood stove with a generous pile of logs and branches resting next to it in a copper pot.

A small round, wood kitchen table and two chairs sit next to a large pane window, and the kitchen essentially runs along the back wall of the cabin. It has an old gas stove, large farmhouse sink, and a fridge. There's a closet near the front door, and two other doors which I presume go to a bathroom and bedroom. The cabin smells woodsy and yummy and I instantly feel comfortable and at home.

Patrick puts our backpacks on the floor then takes me in to his arms. I expect him to kiss me, but instead he just holds me in a long, silent embrace. It's utterly quiet here except the panting of the dogs, and I feel a peace go through me as I close my eyes. Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, yet I feel a lot is communicated. We've had very different, yet very similar journeys, which have brought us to this place and time. Patrick loosens his hold on me but still has me in his embrace. He looks down on me with a contemplative look in his eyes, as if about to speak, but this time I take the initiative and speak first.

"Thank you for bringing me here. I can feel you've put your heart in this cabin and I'm honored to have been invited."

He smiles warmly. "You're very welcome. I want you to know two things." He pauses to me draw me close again so my head is on his chest. His hand slowly caresses my back as he speaks again. "I built this as my marriage was failing. It was a solace and a refuge for me when I couldn't stand to be in our home alone while she was traveling. Before it was built, I slept in my tent until it had four walls and a roof. Maureen, my ex, only came out a few times. I think to humor me." He shakes his head a little, then continues. "Subconsciously I think I'd hoped that if we had a place away from the city we'd reconnect, but she never seemed to warm to the place. She would rather have stayed in a B&B or resort. You're the first woman, besides friends of course, that I've ever brought here."

I take a moment to let that soak in and I realize now that his invitation to stay was not an impulsive gesture on his part. A myriad of emotions go through me including shock, fear, and incredible pleasure that this man seems to be as attracted to me as I am to him. I remind myself to breathe, and to accept things as they come with no expectations or insecurity. 

"The other thing you should know...." He pulls back, this time stepping back to put me at arm's length with his hands on my arm. He locks his eyes on mine. "I'm not looking for casual sex. I'm not just looking for kinky games in bed... Do not be mistaken, in this moment more than anything I want to press you up against this wall to take you right here, but I won't and I can't if you don't feel the same." His eyes search mine as he goes on. "But if you do...if you do feel the same. If you're ready to give yourself to me, to give this a try, I have this sense that it will be very, very good. For both of us...."

My head and my heart are swirling, as my chest and pussy come alive with his words. This is what I've been waiting for, what I've been dreaming of. How could it be this easy? Nothing ever has before. "Trust this," I tell myself, "at least for the moment let go of your fear Corrine."

"I feel it too. It's uncanny how comfortable I am with you. All during our hike. Here in your cabin. Please understand that Its hard for me to just let go and give myself to someone, but I've promised myself I would try. I want to trust you with my body, with my heart... I'll try my best, but please be patient with me. Outside of Robert I've always been in control and it may be a hard habit to break."

Patrick gives me a big squeeze. "Just hearing you say you'll try means more to me than you can ever know." Then just as he had said he would, he backs me in to the wall behind us, crushing me with his body as his mouth descends on mine. His hands are flat against the wall on either side of my face as he leans down to kiss me. There are no light kisses this time, no gentle swipes of his tongue. He is literally devouring my mouth as his tongue plunges through my lips and locks with mine. His uncontrolled passion causes my breath to escape me with a loud groan as my hands reach behind him, grab his ass, and pull him tight against me. He doesn't seem to care that I took this initiative and I feel him grind his hard length against my soft body.

His hands descend down my shoulders, arms and waist in one slow, firm drag leaving a trail of burning flesh until they reach my hips where he stops. His grip on me tightens and I can feel each finger pressing in to my flesh through my shorts and pulling me even closer. One of his legs moves between mine just enough so it is firmly nestled between them, his upper thigh tight against my cunt. I can feel his hard erection against my belly and my body responds with an explosion of wetness that soaks in to my panties and shorts. I feel my cunt lips swelling; clenching in a primitive need to be filled.

"Oh fuck, Corrine, I'm going to come in my shorts like a schoolboy if we don't stop now...." Patrick growls out between kisses.

"No.... No stopping. I can't..... Please...."

Patrick pulls back and is looking at me; really LOOKING at me. His are dark, pupils dilated, with almost fear in them. Could he be as thrown by this crazy chemistry we seem to have as I am?

"Ok... It's ok. I'm not going to stop, not just yet." With that, he abruptly drops to his knees, quickly undoing my belt and shorts, pulling them and my underwear down at the same time. It's then he realizes my boots are still on and lets out a choked laugh before sitting back on his heels, leaving me standing there trembling with need; my shorts down around my ankles. Feeling suddenly exposed and awkward, I reach for my shorts to pull them back up.

"Leave them." His voice is calm, yet firm. His first command. My first opportunity to obey. I stop what I'm doing and slowly stand straight again. My heart jumps as I watch his reaction to my compliance. His mouth opens slightly and he lets out his breath. This moment is not lost on him either. 

Patrick slowly reaches forward and undoes my shoe laces, then pulls one, then the other boot off. My belt and shorts land with a thud on the floor, and he pulls them and my underwear free tossing them behind him.

"Spread your legs. You may rest your hands on the wall behind you or on my shoulders if you need to balance."

Again he watches me closely to see how I respond to his order. As if in a trance I spread my legs slowly until they're a bit more that shoulders length apart. He moves forward and I gently rest my hands on his shoulders, leaning slightly on the wall. Satisfied, Patrick leans forward towards my mostly trimmed pussy and breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as he does. I feel self-conscious and raw. I've never been embarrassed or ashamed of my essence, but we've just come from an intense hike and I'm sweaty and dirty and oh so very wet. Patrick's eyes open, briefly making contact with my own before he looks down again straight at my exposed pussy. He reaches forward with both hands, then with his rough thumbs pulls my outer lips apart revealing even more of myself to him. I can feel my cunt juice slide over my swollen inner lips and on to my thighs. My clit is swollen and pulsing, yet all he does is continue to look.

"Patrick," I tremble. "Please....please touch me. I can't take this..." My knees are visibly trembling and I'm now using his shoulders to support myself.

"Fuck", he says as his mouth descends on my inner right thigh where my juices have been leaking. Broad strokes of his tongue on my flesh cause my knees to weaken even more as I throw my head back and clamp my eyes closed. I first feel his hot breath, then his tongue on my pussy lips. He starts a slow exploration of my cunt; each fold licked, nibbled, and sucked on until I'm practically resting all of my weight on his shoulders and pure pleasure is coursing through my veins.




Rock and Water Ch. 03



He removes his hands briefly. With one hand he uses his thumb and forefinger to once again spread my lips, exposing my needy clit to him. His other hand begins to use two fingers to stroke the length of my pussy, back and forth; back and forth again before entering my hole in one stroke until his fingers are buried deep inside of me. His ring finger and pinky nestle at my perineum. The tip of his ring finger rests lightly on the clenching ring of my asshole. Inside of me, his two fingers begin to stroke me over and over again along the upper wall, directly on my g-spot, until I feel my orgasm build at an alarming rate. My body is shuddering with intense spasms that threaten to make me collapse in front of him.

"Corrine, don't hold back. Give it to me..." With those words his mouth drops to my aching clit and he sucks. HARD. My body explodes in an almost painful orgasm and I can feel tears forming at the corners of my clenched eyes. I'm panting so hard I feel dizzy. My orgasm continues to roll through me like ripples in a lake. He's backed off on the intensity, but continues to just breathe on my cunt as I let go of one last shudder. Patrick eases me down to the ground so that I am kneeling in front of him. He embraces me tightly and I hold on to him for dear life.

Slowly I open my eyes and look around. I realize we've only just made it through the front door; our packs lying on the ground beside us. The dogs are back up on the couch, resting quietly.

"That was beautiful. Just beautiful." Patrick's warm eyes meet mine and I'm slowly brought back to earth again. He's looking at me with wonder as his tongue slowly runs across his lips, continuing to taste me. Who is this man and what the hell just happened to me? That was one of the most intense orgasms I've had in my life.

"Patrick, that was....holy shit." I beam at him because it's all I can do, and all I can think about is that I need to make him feel as good as I do. My eyes drop down and see his incredible erection straining against the confines of his shorts. I eye it hungrily as my hands drop down to his belt. Before I can open it I feel his hands clasp around my wrists and pull them away. I look up; confused and a bit chagrined. He's still just smiling warmly at me, slowly shaking his head back and forth. The universal sign for 'no.'

"Before we go there we're going to need to talk a little. I want everything between us to be safe, consensual, and open from the beginning." He gets a cocky grin on his face before continuing. "At least that was my plan before I dropped to my knees and brought you to the most lovely orgasm I've ever witnessed." I feel my cheeks go dark crimson, but I'm too happy to be shy at this moment.

"Oh damn," I sigh. "A man with principles...no fun at all"

We both stand, and I realize I'm still completely bare from the waist down and dash to collect my shorts. Before I can reach them Patrick grabs me around my waist from behind in a playful tackle and lifts me off my feet. "I think I like this look too much to allow you put those back on... besides, you really should try out the shower; my one true luxury here." True to his word, the shower is quite extravagant in comparison to the rest of the small room. The bathroom itself is quite simple, with a white porcelain sink, toilet, and tile floor. Most of the bathroom is taken up by the shower, itself not too big but it's absolutely gorgeous; made of stone slabs on the floor and simple matte white subway tile on the walls. The door is clear glass. Inside the shower there is both a hand held shower showerhead on one side and a rainwater showerhead overhead on the ceiling which he turns on.

The water runs initially brown; no surprise out here in the woods, but quickly turns clear. There is a shelf with a simple white bar of soap on a dish, and some two-in-one shampoo/conditioner. I cringe a little because I know my hair is a mess and in need of my good conditioner, but I'm still happy to see it. Patrick's gone out to retrieve my sack from the floor, bringing it back to me. I drop it back on the floor, and boldly lift my shirt over my head in one motion.

His eyes challenge me to continue and so I do. I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, allowing my constrained breasts to relax and rest against my chest, the nipples firm and red in invitation. Patrick reaches his arms forward and gently cups them; measuring their weight in his hands. I close my eyes enjoying his hands on me until I feel him suddenly tweak both nipples hard and release them. I let out a yelp.

"Be careful what you ask for," he says with a laugh. "Don't tempt me before we have our talk. Otherwise, the only release I'll allow myself to have will be to punish you...."

My jaw drops and I back away in mock fear, right in to the shower. It feels amazing and my muscles my just melt as I stand under the rainwater showerhead while the warm water cascades over my shoulders and down my limbs. The water pressure is hard and perfect.

"I'm going to just make sure the place is in order. Do you have some food to feed Griffin?" I point to my sack, too enraptured with the shower to talk. He grabs the food leaving me alone in the shower with my thoughts. Instead of pelting myself with questions and worry, as I'm apt to do, I feel a calm wash over me that feels foreign, but very welcomed. I like him. I really like him. His direct honesty leaves me with no other option but to do the same and it's very, very liberating. No games. No mystery. No ulterior motives. 

I'm thankful that he seemed to be able to keep his head on, even when it was obvious how badly his cock needed relief. The discipline and control he demonstrated brought a level of trust between us that I wouldn't have expected so soon. I laugh to myself that I could stand to learn from him. Nothing could have held back that intense release he gave me. Holy crap, I thought I was going to melt in to the wood work!

I wash my hair and run my fingers through it to get rid of the tangles. I soap up my body and allow the water to rinse me clean. Grudgingly I turn off the water. A stack of fluffy forest green towels are stacked on a shelf just outside of the shower. I grab one and I dry my body and hair before applying the body lotion. Out of my backpack I pull out my deodorant and makeup. Tonight I just apply a little concealer along with some pressed powder. I tend to wear little unless going out for a nice evening. Amazingly I'm able to comb through my hair, and I leave it long to dry naturally.

In my backpack is a clean bra and underwear, both a simple rose color with a little lace trim. My sundress is a simple cotton tank dress which while loose, conforms to my body before falling loosely just above my knees. It's jade with a pattern of pink and white Japanese cherry blossoms. I also brought my zipped black hoodie in case it gets cool. Grabbing my flip flops, I head back out to the main room feeling energized and refreshed.

Patrick is sitting on the couch with his shirt off, beer in hand. Another sits on the coffee table unopened. The dogs are once again on the floor, not looking to happy about it. I stop in my tracks and openly gawk at him. I realize I've yet to see him with his shirt off and can't help but stare. While lean, his chest and abdomen are well defined with muscle. His chest is lightly covered in faded brown and slightly grey hair, which continues a delicious trail from his belly button to the seam of his shorts. The black head of his serpent tattoo rests on and over his shoulder, the eyes matching the color Patrick's perfectly. The serpent appears both sinister and serene at the same time.

My eyes are drawn to a second tattoo, which covers his lower right abdomen and disappears at the seam of his shorts. From what I can see, it's a lighthouse.

"Can I see the rest of it? Please?" He stands and unbuttons his shorts, lowering them and his cotton briefs just down below his right hip to reveal water crashing on a rocky bluff that is home to the lighthouse. It's beautiful, and I tell him so. He pulls his shorts back up and motions me to sit with him. I ungracefully fall on the couch next to him and grab the extra beer which he opens for me. It's cold and delicious. Perfect.

"My father grew up in Nova Scotia. He moved to the states in his twenties, but we'd go visit his family every summer. They lived on the coast and my older sister and I spent most of our time on the rocks outside of this lighthouse. The keeper was just as you'd expect; old and craggy, but he seemed to have a soft spot for us and would let us in and tell us a lifetime's worth of stories."

"What an amazing experience for a young boy that must have been for you."

"It was. I was convinced it would be the life for me when I got older, but I realized long ago that I like to be a part of the world and not just watching. " He takes his free hand and brushes some loose hair that's on my cheek behind my ear, sending a light shiver to my core. "You look beautiful Corrine....I'm sitting here in awe that you're here with me. I hope you know that this isn't something I take lightly."

I put my beer down and snuggle against his warm, firm chest. The hairs cushion me lightly and I let out my breath. "I can tell that, and I appreciate you saying so. " He pulls me closer in to him, and I can hear the slow, rhythmic beating of his heart.

We sit quietly for a few minutes, lost in our own thoughts before Patrick speaks again. We have "the talk." He had himself tested for everything as soon as he heard of his wife's infidelity, and continued to do so throughout the time he was, in his own words, "whoring around" , despite always practicing safe sex. I tell him I was tested just a few months ago at my annual exam, and haven't been with anyone since my husband anyway. He recommends that we use condoms until he can show me his most recent results. I appreciate his concern and almost tell him it's not necessary, but then decide you can't be too safe.

I tell him I'm not on the pill, but if things work out I plan to restart it. I ask him about this. Although many of my friends have had healthy pregnancies well in to their early forties, I have no desire to have another child. I want him to know this before we move on in case this is something he is still considering for himself. He considers my question for a while, and I get a little nervous.

"After things with Maureen fell apart, I was thankful that we never did have children together. Once I was on my own, and this may sound selfish, I came to terms that I just wasn't up to having a newborn in my life, so I had a vasectomy. My sister, who has four kids, gave me hell for that but I knew it just wasn't for me. Instead, I visit my nieces and nephews in San Francisco a few times a year, and became a Big Brother to a great kid, Luka."

I sit up and just look at him in amazement. "You're a Big Brother? Tell me about him!"

Patrick tells me all about Luka. He's ten years old and the son of a single Russian immigrant. A good kid overall but has some delinquency problems and was getting caught shoplifting on a regular basis. His mother does her best, but working two jobs keeps her away from their apartment for most of the days. The police are the ones who hooked her up with the Big Brother program. He was tough to connect with at first, but we seem to have hit it off now." He laughs and takes a swig of his beer. "I think the tattoos impressed him." It turns out they started meeting only four months ago, and Patrick spends every Thursday afternoon with him and every other Sunday.

I soak up this unexpected, but incredibly sweet side of Patrick. It tells me a lot about his character that he'd take his time to help a kid in need.

He slowly pushes me back from his chest and looks intently in to my eyes. "We need to talk about our expectations for each other. What we're looking for, along with safety issues too."

My heart starts to thud in my chest, and I can only reply, "Ok."

"I may be a little out of practice, but I know it's important that we lay this all out now before we start anything too intimate." I blush and look at the wall by the front door. "Ok, that was pretty intimate but I slipped a little... It's critical that we be as open with each other about our likes and dislikes. This goes both ways, it's not all on you. I never, ever want you to pretend you're enjoying something just to please me. That's not to say I'm not going to push you out of your comfort zone, because I will, and you might not always like it. Just don't pretend that you do."

He lets me take in that information before going on. "I believe in safe words and I expect you to use them. You can pick your own or we can go with the standard 'yellow' and 'red'. Do you know what I mean by this?" I nod. "No. Tell me in your own words."

Wow. We're really having this conversation. This is happening...

"Yellow means I need you to pause or slow down. That something is either uncomfortable or I may just need a brief break from what we're doing." He seems good with this answer and so I continue. "Red means stop. Whatever we're doing will end immediately."

"Good... " He looks pensive before he continues. "The only other thing I want to bring up again is, what being submissive means to you? For myself, I'm primarily looking for submission in the bedroom from you, but there may be times I'd like to explore power exchange outside of the bedroom too." He leans in and kisses my lips softly. "I know this is a lot to consider in the moment and I don't expect an answer about that if you don't have one." 

"Oh, um....you're right. I don't think I can answer to that just yet. That may be difficult for me. I want to be with you. I want to try my best to submit to you sexually, but I've never considered submission outside of that. It took me so long to accept that sexual submission was not a weakness on my part... It may be hard for me to reconcile having you control me on any other level." 

I look at him, worried how he may have taken what I just said. He is obviously thinking about it before he speaks. "I get that Corrine. I understand why you might feel that way. Just understand that if or when we explore it, I don't view submission, whether in the bedroom or not, as weakness or passivity. Quite the opposite, really. Knowing you're strong and capable and independent, but able let go of all of that to bend to my will would be such a gift to me." He's breathing a little faster as he speaks, and I can see he really means this. I just don't know if I can go there... It's more that I was expecting to be challenged with at this point.

He asks me again, "Tell me Corrine. How do you want to submit to me sexually?"

He has been so candid with me. I try to do the same but feel my cheeks redden as I speak. "I want to give my body to you, but it's more than that.... It's hard to put this in to words; it's just a feeling in my core. " I pause and try to find the best way to explain it.

"When I think of all the work retreats I've gone on, the team building exercises we're subjected to year after year, there's one that stands out in my mind. You stand on a high platform with your colleagues below and behind you. You must fall backwards in their arms. You have to trust that they'll catch you...."

Patrick nods in recognition. "I know the one."

"Well, I never could do it. I made excuses and jokes, but I wouldn't do it. Eventually I came to dread the retreats altogether because of this one stupid exercise. Finally, around three years ago I psyched myself up to do it and I did. It was the most exhilarating and freeing thing I'd ever done. I know that sounds pretty lame since I've traveled the world and done some crazy and dangerous things in my life, but giving my body over that way got deep in my head, and has been there ever since. "

"My year with Robert was the closest I've had to that feeling again." I look in his eyes, hoping he understands. "But even with Robert, it never felt quite real enough. Since we weren't in each other's presence, in my heart I knew he couldn't possibly know whether I was obeying him or not. I always did, but just the knowledge that I wouldn't be held accountable for disobeying him unsettled me."

Patrick smiles. "What a good submissive you were for him." He pulls me in to his arms and gives me a huge bear hug. I'm instantly comforted and over the awkwardness that was creeping in. He's good at that. "Okay," he goes on, "I think that's enough talk for now. Let's go enjoy the night!"

It's beginning to get a little dark outside, so Patrick takes a quick shower, changing in to some dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. While he was in the shower I had a chance to call Addie and see how her weekend is going. We make a plan to cook some dinner together on Sunday evening when she gets home. I tell her I'm with a friend in the gorge, but don't go in to any details. While she is all for me dating, I don't want her to know about Patrick quite yet. Grabbing his blanket and a smaller pack with his cleaned camping dishes, we walk in to town and buy some dinner at a local market. He's had a silly grin on his face since leaving the cabin.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Just a little surprise...I hope you like it."

We go in to what looks like a little country market from the outside, but they have a wide selection of prepared foods that look gourmet and delicious. We pick out some salads and sandwiches, along with a couple of bottles of locally brewed beer. We continue to walk through, and past the town until we reach the elementary school. In the field is setup an enormous white screen and I realize we're here for an outdoor movie! In front of the screen some high school aged kids are doing their best to play some covers of Tom Petty until the movie starts.

"Very cool!" I exclaim. "What are we seeing?"

Patrick looks as enthusiastic as I feel. "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory!" he pronounces excitedly. I've never seen this side of him. I like it. "The original of course... In all due respect to Johnny Depp, no one can compare to Gene Wilder."

"I totally agree! Not to mention the girl who plays Veruca Salt...."

We settle on the blanket and eat as the sky darkens and the movie starts. I put my hoodie on as it starts to get cool outside, and as the movie begins Patrick gets behind me and draws me back towards him. I bring my knees towards my belly and turn on my side a little, allowing me to rest my body against him, my head on his chest. His long limbs are braced up with his knees bent, feet on the blanket. He warmly envelops me in his arms. The movie starts and I am as content as I have ever been.

After the movie we walk silently back to the cabin. A lot has been shared and revealed today, and I think neither of us feels the need to press any deeper at this time. For myself, I can feel my body begin to tremor a little. Not from the cold, but from the anticipation of what's still to come this evening. All through the movie Patrick had been caressing me, or giving the occasional squeeze. Randomly at one point during the movie he brushed my hair aside and gently kissed my neck just behind my ear. These small teases all evening have culminated in my body like kindling would for a fire.

Of course the dogs are on the couch when we get back to the cabin. He makes a show of kicking them off, but we both know they'll be back on as soon as we go to sleep. I hadn't packed a toothbrush, but Patrick had brought one for me, looking a little sheepish about his forgone conclusion as he hands it to me. It's odd how easy and routine this feels, brushing our teeth together in the bathroom. I almost forget how nervous I am...until we're done and go in to the bedroom. As soon as we do I stop in my tracks.

The room is small, not out of the ordinary at all for a cabin in the woods. There's a queen sized bed with a chocolaty brown, thick, cotton duvet and lots of downy pillows. The bed itself looks like a black iron or painted steel, with a headboard but no footboard. There's only room for one nightstand, which is a gorgeous wood and appears handmade. I suspect that Patrick made it, but I'm too on edge to ask at this point. A tall dresser sits along one wall, while the other has two four-paned windows that look in to the woods at the back of the cabin.




Rock and Water Ch. 04



Thank you again for the great comments! Love them! If you haven't read the first three chapters I definitely recommend that you do so. Kudos to FA_JF for helping me to clarify some of the nuances of this new relationship. 

*

I wake up the next morning with sunlight filtering through the window. The morning air feels chilly, but the bed is warm and comfortable. As I stretch out, I realize I'm alone in the bed. Opening my eyes I see that in fact, I am alone; a note is propped on the nightstand. The note reads that Patrick went for a morning run with the dogs and to pick up some groceries. I look on the floor at my crumpled dress, then at his large black fleece....

His fleece over my naked body feels delicious. I use the bathroom and brush my teeth. My hair is a rumpled mess. Running my fingers through it makes it marginally better but I'd forgotten to pack a brush so it will have to do. I patter out to the main room and feel warmth emanating from the wood stove and the smell of coffee thick in the air. A mug sits next to the French press, and I pour myself some coffee. Picking up the bag of beans from a local coffee roaster, I chuckle to myself about us Oregonians and our "locavore" obsession. 

I retrieve my phone from my pack, then curl up on the couch soaking in the heat from the wood stove. Checking my messages first to make sure Addie hadn't called, I see there are only two messages from Johanna; one from last night and again one from this morning. As expected, the first is demanding a call as soon as I'm home from dinner to give her details. The second, from this morning, is a little bit concerned that she hasn't heard from me, but tempered with the hope that I "got laid."

I send her a quick text letting her know the date was great and that we stayed overnight at his cabin in the gorge. I let her know I'll call her later in the evening. I call Addie to hear about her evening painting pottery with her grandparents. She's painted a Father's Day mug for Frank along with another penguin for her collection. We make a plan to meet back at the house by five o'clock to make some dinner together, watch a movie and plan our week. I still have one more week of broadcasts before my vacation starts. I regret that it's during her last week in town, but she's made plans to spend time with her friends that she'll be separated from for the whole summer, which in tween time is years. The evenings are ours to spend together until her Saturday red-eye flight.

Addie and I are wrapping up our call as Patrick and the dogs return from their run. I try to stay focused on the call but I can't help but stare in lust at the site of him. He's in his black track pants with a loose dark blue t-shirt. His cheeks are flushed and he's breathing hard. Sweat stains the front and back of his shirt. He drops his full backpack on to the floor, walks over with his eyes on me, leans down and kisses my forehead before heading over to the kitchen to get some water. The incredibly male smell of woods and sweat lingers, and I close my eyes to just breathe him in. Addie asks who I'm with and I tell her it's a friend she doesn't know. She pauses, but doesn't push for any more information. For a twelve year old, she's very intuitive and I suspect she may know I'm with a man. We'll have to talk this week.

Patrick has turned around and is now leaning against the kitchen counter with his water, watching me with an easy smile. Addie and I exchange "I love you" then hang up. I put the phone down, pick up my coffee and smile back at him. Neither of us speaks for a brief moment as we just take each other in. The only sounds are the dogs noisily lapping up water from their bowls.

Patrick slowly walks towards me. "I don't think I'll ever do that fleece justice after seeing it on you....It looks like it was made for you to lounge around in, looking so sexy on my couch."

Sitting down next to me, he takes my coffee mug out of my hands, placing it on the table before turning back to me. Reaching forward, he unzips the fleece to just below my breasts, then spreads it open to expose my flesh to him. The cool air on my nipples, along with his scrutiny, causes them to tighten and redden before our eyes. He closes his eyes to take a deep breath through his nose, before parting his lips and breathing out slowly. When his eyes open, they are dark and full of need. He leans forward and takes my right nipple in to his mouth while massaging my left breast in his warm, strong hand.

I let out my own breath in a lusty moan as he continues to suck my nipple and flesh deep in to his warm, wet mouth; his other hand alternating between massaging my left breast occasionally lightly pinching and twisting the nipple. Fiery currents shoot from my chest, heating me to the core in a slow building wave. I arch in to him, never wanting this feeling to end. He moves his mouth to my left breast then begins to nurse it as he had my right. My cunt is swelling and dripping with need. I worry that juices will leak on to his leather couch so I discreetly attempt to pull the fleece lower to cover myself.

He pulls back. "Why are you hiding yourself from me?" 

"Um.... I'm getting....turned on; I was worried that I'd stain your couch." I feel my face redden a little after I admit to this. He sees my blush and his eyes narrow a little as he licks his lower lip. He's getting off on my embarrassment. With a smile that is both amused and slightly menacing, Patrick suggests that we check the couch and see.

I scoot back on the cushion, and sure enough droplets of my juices have collected on the leather. We both just stare at the glistening fluid, before he traces his forefinger through it and wordlessly brings it to my mouth. I look at him incredulously only to have his eyes darken to let me know this is not up for discussion. I part my lips and lean forward a little, keeping my eyes on his. His finger enters to the first knuckle; I close my lips around it and begin to suck it clean. I taste myself; sweet, tangy and musky.

Patrick looks at me expectantly, so I continue to suck, moving my head forward to take the entire length of his finger in to my mouth, before pulling back again. He appears pleased by this, adding a second finger but still just holds them there for me to essentially mouth fuck myself on them.

With my tongue and wet mouth I continue to suck and lick his fingers, losing myself in the sensual and submissive act. I know it's not his cock I'm sucking on, and for some reason this turns me on even more. That I would do this for him; simulating fellatio on his fingers just to please him feels very sexy, naughty, and a bit debasing. It is making me very wet. I position myself on my hands and knees on the couch, feeling my pussy juice leak down my inner thighs. Closing my eyes I continue to suck hard. His fingers when fully drawn in tap on the back of my throat, causing the occasional gag and make my mouth fill with drool.

"I can smell your cunt, Corrine...." My eyes shoot open at that word. It gets in my head and makes me feel very raw. "Is sucking on my fingers getting you even wetter?" 

I stop my movements, but hold his fingers in my mouth. This is it. This is where I truly bare myself to him; the depravity I've only ever revealed to one other person who was safely three thousand miles away. I have to trust he won't use this information against me; that he won't reveal me to my family or the public.

I nod. A little drool slips through my lips onto my chin and his hand as I do.

His words are slow and steady, but his breathing has become more rapid; his body tense. He pulls his fingers from my mouth and wipes them off on my cheeks. "Tell me in your own words. I want to hear you say it."

I'm not sure how it has come to this when just a few minutes ago I was drinking coffee, talking to Addie on the telephone. How was he able to so quickly bring me to this headspace where I feel I will say or do anything to please him at my own expense? It scares me a little, this power he could have over me.

"Yes, S...." I almost call him Sir, but stop myself. This is something we haven't discussed, and I'm not sure I'm ready to go there yet. "Sucking on your fingers is making my pussy wet."

"Did you mean to say your cunt?"

I breathe deeply. "Sucking on your fingers is making my cunt very, very wet. My juices are dripping on my thighs."

"Let me see. Turn and lean over the back of the couch." I do as Patrick asks, then feel his hands on the insides of my knees, spreading them to expose my pussy and ass to him. I hear him intake his breath sharply before he quietly adds, "Stay here. Do not move." Then without touching me at all he's gone and I hear him go in to the bedroom.

My pussy is aching for his touch; swelling and clenching in need. Every other thought is lost to me except my need to be filled by him. Not just his beautiful cock, but by his words; all of them. The words that make me feel cherished. The words that humiliate me. The words that make my pussy drip for him. 

I hear Patrick approach me from behind. I don't know if it's ok to look back at him and so I don't. Suddenly he's standing just behind me with his hands on my hips, pulling me back towards him. My head is now resting on the back of the couch, with my hands on either side. Without words I feel his sheathed cock plunge in to my wet pussy until I feel his hips pressed against the cheeks of my ass. He's being eerily silent, causing me to feel lost without his voice. 

"Patrick...."

"Shhhhh.....it's ok. No words right now."

This is what he wants. I feel assured and let myself feel the sensation of his large, hard cock filling me. He begins long, slow strokes that drag along the walls of my cunt, sending heat and intense pressure throughout my body. His strokes quicken and become harder. The only thing I can hear is the wet smacking sound each time his pelvis slams in to me and his balls slap against my clit. Except there is noise and it's coming from me. With each thrust my breath is pushed out of my lungs, causing an uncontrolled "ahhh" to escape me.

My orgasm is so intensely close but I can't reach the peak I so desperately need. My body is visibly shaking and I'm clenching the leather tightly in my hands trying to keep myself from begging out loud when I feel his hand slip underneath me and two fingers begin to rapidly rub against my wet and swollen clit. This is all it takes and I feel electricity explode through every nerve in my body as I buck against him and scream out with my release.

With his hands on my hips Patrick lifts me, pushing me forward until my chest is draped over the back of the couch. He climbs up behind me on his knees, slamming his cock back into me almost to the point pain. He reaches for my arms and gently but firmly pulls them behind my back, clasping them at the wrist in one hand. The other hand rests heavily on my hip.

It's clear to me that this is all about him right now. He is taking me; using me for his pleasure. I feel fucked and used in the most primitive way and this fills me with such a deep satisfaction that I can do this for him. His movements become short and jerky before I hear him release a deep groan and collapse over my back. Letting go of my arms, he wraps his around my chest and continues to milk his cock slowly in and out of me. His body is shuddering against me; his breath hot against my ears.

We lay like this in silence for minutes. I feel overly warm with his body against mine, and my shoulders are sore but I don't say a word. Eventually his softening cock begins to slide from me, and he carefully clasps the base in order to keep the condom on until he is fully out. Removing the condom and tying it off, he uses a napkin left on the table to clean himself before pulling his boxer briefs and track pants back up. I hadn't realized he was still wearing them.

Patrick sits down on the couch and pulls me on to his lap; my head resting against his chest. My body is racked with trembles and he holds me tight and caresses my head slowly, whispering "Shhh... it's ok...you're ok...," over and over again. We sit quietly like this for a few minutes as my trembling slows, then stops altogether. At times he leans down to kiss the top of my head, or tighten his arms around my body in a comforting squeeze. Despite his efforts to make me feel safe and cherished, I occasionally shudder as a wave of panic rolls through me. I feel exposed, vulnerable, and raw.

"Talk to me," he requests gently. "Where are you?"

I take a deep breath and remain silent for another minute. He doesn't push me, giving me time to find my words.

"That was....different." He cocks his head a little, looking grim as I try to find a way to express what's turning around in my head. "Everything you did...not being able to see you, to hear you. The way you fucked me; the way you made me come. It all got in to my head and just emptied it out of all the bullshit I carry around day to day." I sigh and give him a warm smile. "It was incredible."

Patrick visibly relaxes and briefly closes his eyes before speaking. "I was scared I pushed you too hard, to soon. I didn't plan that, Corrine. I hadn't intended to use you so hard at this point. I'm still not sure I should have, but something about seeing you suck my fingers with so much heart just set me off. I would have stopped, you know. If you had asked, I would have in a second. It's important to me that you know that."

"I do know that. I feel very safe with you. I just... I just haven't done this before, in person. It's so much more...real... for lack of a better word."

"Oh, it's going to get more 'real' as we go on, but I'm in no hurry to push things faster than you're ready to go. We've got so much to learn about each other, both in and out of the bedroom. It's going to take time to truly learn to trust each other. You're going to have to trust me to respect, but sometimes push your softer limits. You're going to have to trust that I will never take advantage of you or push your hard limits when you're at your most vulnerable."

He pauses briefly, then continues. "I'm going to have to trust you to tell me honestly what turns you on, and what doesn't. What causes you shame or pain beyond what turns you on. I've said it before and you'll probably hear me say it again. I never want you to pretend with me. I just couldn't take it..."

It's obvious open and honest communication is important to him. I'm so glad to have met him at this stage in my life because until now, I wasn't even being honest with myself. I shift my body until I'm facing him, raising my hand to run it through his hair and down the side of his neck. He closes his eyes and leans in to my hand as I brush my lips against his.

My growling stomach causes us both to look down at it and laugh. He gives me a big bear hug, before lifting me in one motion, depositing me back on the couch and giving me back my now cold coffee.

"Sit tight and I'll have breakfast for you shortly!"

I go to stand. "Can I help?"

"Absolutely not!" Giving me a wicked smile he says, "I assure you I'll demand lots of meals from you in the future, woman." I laugh at that. "Not to mention, you look so gorgeous right, now sitting there with that freshly fucked glow. I need you to stay there until it's burned into my brain and I can jerk off to the image anytime I want."

I can feel my face rapidly flush. He gives a laugh. "I told you at the gym I'd make you blush again." I laugh and cover my face in my hands. That he did.

Breakfast turns out to be some very tasty and decadent Huevos Rancheros with a chorizo on the side and some fresh squeezed orange juice. He's made some more coffee, and we indulge by adding a little bit of Kahlua.

"Ok. You're right. This is pretty damned good breakfast."

He laughs. "I hope you're duly impressed."

I assure him that I am, and prove it by cleaning my plate. I insist on clean up duty while he strips the bed and checks the place over since it might be a few weeks before he can make it back here. We take a lazy shower together, exploring each other's bodies, getting silly, and getting turned on all over again. We take turns licking, sucking, and kissing one another in to a frenzy. With no condom around, we resort to hands, tongues, and mouths to get each other off.

We pack up the dogs and get on the road. The drive home is a little over an hour, giving us time to talk a little more. I tell him about my plan for a "stay-cation" while Addie is gone for the summer. At first he seems disappointed that I won't be broadcasting any new shows over the summer, until he realizes that my schedule is going to be less restricted and I'll have more time for him. I go on to tell him about my kitchen remodel plans and ask if he knows the contractor, Pete, who I've hired. He does and seems pleased with my choice. He's quiet for a bit before he asks me about my plans for the cabinets.

"Well, I assumed if Pete didn't do them himself, that he'd contract out for someone else to do them."

Patrick looks at me with a broad grin on his face and I see where he's going with this. Involuntarily I make a scared face and he laughs. "Would that be too weird? For me to do your cabinets? "

My stomach twists a little. Yeah. It might be too weird.... "I don't know Patrick, you know what they say about mixing work with pleasure."

"I can promise you I'd be nothing but professional. Really. I'd respect whatever boundaries you think we'd need to set up. I'm good at this Corrine, I really am. I'd love to do this for you and I'm sure the boss would give you a screaming rate." He smiles again.

"Uh uh...." I protest. "Even if I do hire you, and I'm not saying that I am, I will only pay your going rate and nothing less. It wouldn't feel right otherwise."

He drops his smile but appears to be thinking about what I've said, then nods. "I get that. I'd do the same if I were in your shoes."

We're both silent for a little before he adds, "go to my website this week and look through my portfolio to see if you like the work I do. If you do, I can get you in touch with some references if you'd like."

I tell him I will, but don't commit to anything else. I'll have to think hard about how wise it would be to have him in my house all the time. What if things between us go bad? What if our dynamic turns weird because he's working for me? All of these thoughts cross my mind as we head back in to the city.

We don't make any plans to get together until Saturday evening, after I get Addie on her red-eye to Newark before she heads on to Heathrow. We make plans for dinner, then for him to spend the night at my house. He'll have to get up a little early on Sunday for his day with Luka, so it'll be easier for me to be at home if I want to sleep in a little.

As we pull up to my house, I oddly begin to feel a little shy. It was only a little over twenty four hours ago that he picked me up, and yet so much has happened between us; so much said. This man that was a stranger to me only three days ago now knows more intimate information about me than those who've known me a lifetime. I'm not sure how I feel about this as I just sit there, looking at my hands in my lap.

"Look at me," he calmly but firmly requests. I do. He brings a hand up and gently rests it on my cheek. "Don't pull back on me now... Don't be shy about what's happened between us. It was beautiful. You're beautiful. I have so much respect for you, the way you gave yourself to me. I want so much to see more of you...to see where this goes."

I look in his eyes. They're warm and sincere. Taking a deep breath and letting it out I do feel better. He seemed to know just what I needed to hear. "I do too...want to see where this goes. If only for the Huevos Rancheros...." With that I jump out of the Bronco leaving him staring at me stunned, before he jumps out too. The dogs follow and recreate their melee on the front lawn. He picks up my pack and walks me to the door. As soon as we're in the house he drops the pack on the floor, grabs me by my waist and hauls me over to the couch.




Rock and Water Ch. 04



Before I know it, Patrick turns me around, leans me over the side of it and gives me two HARD smacks on my ass cheeks. I shriek and reach behind me to rub the sting out, but he quickly grabs my hands, holding them snug on my lower back, leaning over me. I'm panting hard. I've experienced playful spankings at the hands of college boyfriends, and even took a paddle to my own ass at Robert's orders on more than one occasion, but the spanks Patrick just gave me took sting to a new level.

He speaks quietly in to my ear. "The first was for being a tease back in the truck. The second was because it felt so damn good to smack your ass the first time that I couldn't stop at one." He pulls me up off the couch, turns me around, and before I know it his lips are on me in and our tongues begin a slow and sexy dance with each other.

I know Addie is going to be home shortly, so reluctantly I pull back from the kiss. "I think I'm going to have to kick you out now before Addie sees more than she needs to...."

"Ok... I am a little bummed that I won't get to meet her before she leaves, but I understand. Is that her?" He points to a series of pictures of her that range in age from around four years old until just recently, and I nod. "She looks just like you, except for her lighter hair."

"She's a good kid. "

We walk towards the door. "I hope you have a great week with Addie. You have no idea how much I look forward to seeing you Saturday night." I think I do. "Would it be ok to call you during the week?"

"I'd love to hear from you..." I get up on my toes and Patrick leans down for a final kiss before he steps out of the house and I close the door behind him. I plop down on the couch, followed by Griffin who curls up next to me. I give him a hug and tell him to stop teaching Guinness bad habits.

***

Addie comes home and we make our plans for the week, including lots of summer shopping and bad movies. I spend a good deal of time on Sunday evening on the phone with the airlines. I'm a little worried about her flying to London by herself, but have been assured by them that she will have escorts at every gate, and that Frank will be allowed to meet her as soon as she walks off of the airplane at Heathrow. She just rolls her eyes at me, telling me to not be such a worrier. 

It was one thing last summer when I was traveling for work while she was with her father, it's a completely other thing to be here alone in the house for a little over two months. I'll get to see her in late-July when I fly to London for a four day visit, but other than that I don't have any travel plans. Hopefully the kitchen project, along with some interior painting I plan to do through the house, will keep me too busy from missing her so much.

I walk in to the gym on Monday morning and the first thing that I see is Patrick speaking with one of the female personal trainers. As soon as he sees me though, a sly smile spreads across his face and he excuses himself, walking towards me.

He pulls me in to a warm embraces and laughs a little. "How'd we not realize at our goodbye yesterday that we'd be seeing each other at the gym all week?" I can see the trainer watching us with her eyes narrowed a little. In the back of my mind I remind myself to ask him later if she's the one he'd hooked up with. 

I whisper in his ear with a little giggle, "I might have been a little distracted by my stinging ass."

"Laugh now, but you may not find the next spanking quite as amusing...." His voice is calm and steady, but his eyes are lethal, causing a delicious chill to run through my body.

"Oh," I reply cautiously. "I suppose I'll just have to behave then."

He gives me a cocky smile. "You're assuming spankings are only for punishment; I can assure you that's not the case."

My cheeks grow warm as I look around to see if anyone can hear us. My body is all of a sudden aching and on edge.

Patrick once again leans in to me, whispering in my ear. "Mmmmm.... I love when you're just on the cusp of arousal. I know I could just push a little harder and you'd deny me nothing. Sadly, despite all of the suggestive equipment scattered through the gym, this isn't the time or place." He lets out a deep sigh and moves to the water fountain to refill his bottle, leaving me standing there stunned, and yes, aroused.

I follow him over and fill up my bottle too. He asks if I've had a chance to see his portfolio yet and I tell him I haven't, but plan to later. It turns out he's had a cancellation, and could get started on my cabinets at the end of the month if I'd like him too. I'm warming to the idea, but still have some reservations.

We split up to start our work outs, but whereas before I never noticed him watching me, today I catch him more than once. Each time creates a slow burn inside of me. Eventually I move to the cardio room to use the elliptical, and fifteen minutes in to it I see him come in. He walks past numerous vacant treadmills only to pick the one directly in front of me. With a smile, he jumps on and starts his run; leaving me to stare at his ass for the next 25 minutes. Now who's the tease?

Not wanting to interrupt him during his run, I give him a wave and he nods back as I leave the gym. In the past, I might have felt bummed that he didn't stop his run to say goodbye, but things feel so easy and understood between us that I'm not feeling any insecurity. It's a perk of being in our forties, I suppose.

***

My last week of work, along with my time with Addie, goes too fast. Patrick and I run in to each other one more time at the gym, but outside of a kisses hello and goodbye, our interaction was sparse. I did get a chance to look at Patrick's portfolio and was blown away by his craftsmanship. His skills range from cabinets and furniture, to handmade wood canoes.

He has an ability to match the period and style of each house, but also adds something that makes each piece uniquely his. I even go to the trouble of calling some of his references and they were all glowing, of course. It sounds like he has a good work ethic and finishes projects on time. I can't deny that I'm very tempted. If we don't let the money be a big issue, and do our best not to crowd each other, I think this could work. I double check with Pete, my contractor, and he is thrilled. It turns he knows Patrick pretty well, and feels he'd be a good match for the project.

When Patrick calls on Friday evening after Addie is in bed, I tell him that I'd like to hire him for the job. He's genuinely excited and plans to take some measurements and pictures of my kitchen while over this weekend. We briefly discuss the money which turned out to be easier than I thought it would. I request that we not share with Pete that we're dating. I just feel like this will help keep safer boundaries in place, along with preventing Pete from feeling uncomfortable if any conflicts arise.

When we're done talking about the job, Patrick pauses and is silent for a moment before he speaks again. "Are you in bed?"

"Um.... Not really. I'm sitting on it, but still dressed in the clothes I wore today."

"Get your toys and get naked." His tone has shifted, and it's as if a switch goes off in me.

Obediently I strip my clothes off with little grace, and walk to the closet for my bag of toys. As I'm walking back to the bed he adds, "....and Corrine, for this phone call I'd like you to call me Sir."

This stops me dead in my tracks. I can feel my heart beating wildly in my chest. I feel like I'm about to jump in to a big void; that calling him Sir will change everything that we've started, and it's been so good. I continue to just breathe shallowly in to the phone. He's waiting for my answer and I can't speak.

His voice continues to be calm and steady. "You do realize that up until now we've mostly just engaged in rough sex, don't you?" I think about this, and it's true. There certainly has been a bit of "mind fuck" going on, but no outright verbal submission on my part. Isn't this what I've been waiting for?

"Yes....Sir" 

He takes a slow, deep breath and lets it out. "Good." 

His approval sends a wave of longing through every nerve.

I hear some shuffling on his side of the phone, then the sound of his boots hitting the floor. "Pull down your covers, lie down, and get comfortable. Hold on a sec..." I can hear more shuffling, including the sound of a zipper. He's getting naked too and this excites me even more. He gets back on the phone. "You should know ahead of time that I'm not letting you come tonight."

Shit.

I ask quietly, "will I get to hear you come?'

"I haven't decided yet."

We lay there in silence, but I can hear his even, steady breathing. Just knowing he's on the other side of the phone, naked, is enough for me to start squirming. I don't dare talk first. The silence feels very deliberate on his part and I don't want to disappoint him. I'm noticing a trend that he gets quiet before he takes charge.

He starts. "Tell me how you're lying there."

I'm a little thrown by the question. "Um... I'm lying on my back, my, uh...shoulders and head are propped on two pillows." I stop my description to see if this is enough. He remains silent. I let out a deep breath. "My legs are parted....my right foot is on the bed, knee bent and a little, uh...spread. My left leg is bent, lying flat on the bed."

"So your cunt is exposed."

"Yes," I whisper

His only reply is silence.

"Yes Sir."

"Better. Ok, tell me what you've got there. In detail."

I feel my cheeks start to burn; my heart flutters a bit. Humiliation starts to choke me as I look at my collection and I don't know how I'm going to do this. How can I just rattle off my toys to him like it was a grocery list? But he knows this... He knows that the shame is a part of what gets me off.

"I've, uh...collected these over the past year...some at Robert's direction. I've got two vibrators, one that's a standard size, and one that's pretty....large. Two butt plugs; again, one that's average sized, the other larger." This is getting a little easier. I feel like I'm almost in a trance as I list off my secret collection. "I've got anal beads, Ben Wa balls, clothespins, and, um....a paddle."

"Describe the clothespins and the paddle.... How many clothespins? Are they wood? Plastic? Is the paddle wood? Leather? Does it have holes?

His voice is so even keel I feel like I'm being interviewed by an insurance adjustor, not a man who intends to for me to sexually submit to him. "The clips are standard wood clothespins. They came in a box of fifty and....they're all there." I hear a little chuckle on the other side of the phone and I cringe. "The paddle is simple. It's covered in leather. No holes."

"What's the most clothespins you've had on your body at once?" His breathing is getting rough; his voice a bit deeper.

My mind and body are spinning. I want to tell him but I don't. Like the word "Sir", once I tell him how far I've gone, there's no going back. Robert pushed me hard sometimes, and I'm not sure I'm ready to go there yet with Patrick.

As if sensing my fear and trepidation, his voice returns to almost normal, and I hear concern. "I have no plans to use them on you tonight... I just want to know. I want you to always be honest with me about your sexuality; about what arouses you. Just hearing you describe your toys to me made my cock so hard for you. I have to admit though, hearing the embarrassment in your voice only made it more so. Submission despite shame is a huge turn on for me...." He pauses before adding, "...and if I'm not mistaken, does a little shame turn you on?"

This seems like a good window to broach this topic of shame. "It...it does. I can't deny that, but...I don't want anything too degrading. Nothing, um... in the bathroom please." I quickly add on "...or in public."

"I can promise you no bathroom games; not my thing either. As far as public goes, I can promise you I'll never push for anything that anyone else would be aware of besides us. Can you live with that?'

I let out a deep sigh, feeling relief course through me. "Yes. I can live with that."

"OK then... What's the most clothespins you've had on your body at one time?"

Oh. He's not going to let that one slip after all. "Twenty-nine."

"That's an odd number...Usually clothespins are used symmetrically on the body. Why the extra pin?"

"My, um... my clit." Once again my face is on fire.

"Huh...You don't say." I can't believe he's so casual about this while I'm having an internal freak out on my end. He chuckles a little again. "Robert was a bit of a sadist then, wasn't he?"

I appreciate that he doesn't seem to carry any resentment or jealousy towards Robert. If anything, I suspect they'd get along quite well.

As uncomfortable as this conversation has been for me, there's no denying the physical effect it's had on my body. It is taking all the will power I have not to run my fingers over my wet and swollen pussy. I can feel a growing wet spot on the sheet below me.

"Alright then, time for some fun. Grab that smaller butt plug, lube it up and go ahead and put it in when you're ready. Just make sure you describe everything to me."

While the words themselves sound almost like a suggestion, his tone is anything but. I pick up the cloth bag and dump the contents on to my bed. Finding the smaller of my two plugs, I grab it, apply a little lube, then pick up the phone again.

"I'm lying on my right side, and I have the plug in my left hand; holding it just against my, uh...ring."

"That's perfect sweetie, just like that."

His endearment warms me up and encourages me forward. "I'm pushing.... Oh! I'm pushing it past the ring, pulling it in and out a little as I go." My breath is coming in short pants now; my pussy aching to be touched. Describing this to him is turning me on like crazy. "I'm also....I'm twisting it side to side a little to help work it in. It's almost there...." I pause to feel the sensation of my ass getting filled. My tight hole is stretched by the widest part of the plug and I let out a little gasp before it slips in and my ring closes over the small neck. Just the flared handle the base of the plug is nestled between my cheeks. "It's in...." 

"That was beautiful sweetheart, just beautiful.... Relax a moment and feel the plug filling you. Imagine if it was my hand that had pushed it in. One day soon it will be as I prepare you to take my cock inside that sweet, tight ass of yours."

His voice was thick with lust, causing me to shudder both with need and a little fear. My husband never played with my ass at all, and before him only one or two boyfriends ever used their fingers in me. Robert helped me learn how to accommodate larger and larger plugs over the year, and even had me use my small vibrator at times to fuck my ass with.

"Um....Sir?"

"Yes Corrine?"

"Can I... Can I touch myself? My p... My cunt is so very wet. Please?"

"Thank you for asking, but no, not yet." His denial turns me on even more, and I'm sure he knows this. Patrick pauses to see if I protest, then continues. "Play with your breasts and nipples. Gentle or hard is fine; whatever feels good to you. Just again, describe what you're doing."

I'm holding the phone in my right hand, so can only use my left to play with myself. "I'm fondling my left breast; just, ahhh....cupping it from the underside and giving gentle squeezes. Now I'm using my thumb to rub circles over my nipple which is...getting very hard."

"Suck on your thumb for a sec and get it wet, then use it on your nipple again."

At his direction I do so, and my wet nipple contracts even more as the cool night air comes in contact with it. "Ahhh.... That feels so good Sir. Thank you, Sir." My hand moves to my right breasts and repeats the actions as on the left. Both of my nipples are now almost painfully contracted and tight, sending electric currents straight to my core and clit. I'm finding it hard to lay still and I'm squirming my bottom against the bed in an attempt to push the plug even deeper in to my ass.

"Talk to me.... What are you doing?"

My breath is now irregular pants and I'm finding it harder to talk. All of my focus is on the sensations and aching coming from my lower belly and pussy. "I'm so close....Please. Please Sir, let me fill my cunt for you. Please let me touch myself." My eyes, that I hadn't even realized were clenched tight, shoot open as I realize I'm begging.

"I like this side of you... so wet and needy for me. Grab your larger vibrator but don't turn it on. Just hold it against your tight, moist slit and rub the head slowly up and down. Imagine I'm there and I'm holding my cock doing just that. Teasing you but not entering that beautiful, greedy cunt."

This is almost too much. The feel of the large head of my vibrator rubbing up and down, dragging against my clit is going to push me over the edge. I can hear Patrick's breath getting faster and raspier. I can almost hear the rapid, wet sounds of him stroking his cock, and he's letting out the sexiest short grunts. He almost screams in to the phone, "Push it in, NOW!"

I push the large vibrator in to my tight, wet pussy and immediately feel the pressure of being stuffed by the two toys. I'm working it in and out rapidly but it's not enough to push me over. If only he'd let me play with my clit...

"Feel it Corrine.... Feel me using your holes. It's going to happen. It's going to happen very soon. His last words are choked off. "Ahhhhhh...." He screams out his release in a succession of pants and grunts that go on and on. I continue to work the vibrator in and out, getting so close.

As he recovers his breath, he says, "ok sweetie. Take out the vibrator and plug." WHAT???

"No!!! No, Sir.... Please!!!

"NOW!" He growls.

Chagrined, I do as I'm told; but I'm not happy about it. My body is screaming with need still and my head is telling me to hang up and finish what I started. It takes a few minutes for my body to calm down. We're both quiet on the line, until my breathing returns to normal.

He quietly asks, "Did you forget you weren't allowed to come tonight?"

"Yes," I reply grumpily.

Again, silence from him.

"Yes, Sir."

Still silence.

"Sir?"

"I'm here. Those words...from your mouth. It's been so long. It's beautiful." His voice is warm; filled with emotion.

A sense of satisfaction and contentment wash over me. All thoughts of my deprived orgasm have vanished. I've pleased him. That's all that matters.

"You did good, Corrine. I know that was hard for you and I appreciate that you indulged me. With each conversation we have, each small act of submission on your part, we're learning about one another. I've said it before, this is just the beginning. I'm getting a sense of when your walls go up; when you start questioning me. It's important for me to figure out what breaks down those walls, until there are none at all and I have your complete and total sexual submission."

A small wave of panic goes through me at those words. I know this is what I want, but the prospect of giving my body and my will to him still scares me.

Patrick pauses, then goes on, "Don't worry though, I'm not talking about every moment we spend together, even in the bedroom. No doubt there'll be times we just want to fool around, or be tender with each other. I want all of that too."

"I do too.... I'm trying Patrick, I'm really trying. I do trust you. Honestly, it amazes me that I do in such a short time span. It's just so much to take in. I don't want to... I don't want to disappoint you with my lack of real, um, in person experience."

Patrick laughs, and I'm not sure how I should take it. "You have absolutely nothing to worry about. You are so beautifully and naturally submissive that you couldn't possibly disappoint me. I just don't want to push too hard too soon and send you running for the hills. I really hope that you'd tell me if I was because this is too important to fuck up."




Rock and Water Ch. 04



I smile at his own anxiety and concerns about us. His honesty and vulnerability are refreshing.

"I would, and I will.... This means a lot to me too."

He lets out a deep sigh and we discuss our plans for tomorrow evening. Addie's plane for Newark departs at 9:30pm; with permission from the airline I'm staying in the gait with her until she boards. Since it'll be too late to do much else, we decide he'll just come over and maybe watch a movie.

We continue to talk about both inconsequential and at times heavy topics until it's close to 1am. He's intelligent, funny, and sexy as hell. I feel like I could talk to him all night, but my eyelids are drooping and my voice is thick with sleep.

"It's time for sleep my sweet girl." My body purrs at the warmth in his voice.

"Goodnight Patrick." I wait to see if he's ok with my not calling him Sir at this point. It would seem that he is when he quietly says, "Good night Corrine."

***

Addie and I spend her last day in town walking along the river that cuts the city in half; stopping at a crafts festival to buy some trinkets for her grandparents in London. We go to our favorite taqueria for dinner before we head to the airport. During dinner I tell her I've been on a date with a new man, Patrick, and that we seem to mutually like one another and plan to see each other again. She seems genuinely excited for me, but I know she's a little wary about bringing someone into our lives.

At the airport we're a jumble of excitement about her trip and anxiety about being apart for the summer, minus my visit in July. As her flight begins to board, I remind her to call me when her flight lands in Newark. She argues that it'll be the middle of the night for me and I tell her that I don't care. I hold back my tears until she walks down the jet way and boards her plane. By the time I get home I'm sad and subdued. Patrick and Guinness arrive shortly thereafter and find me in this state.

As soon as the front door closes behind him, he drops two bags on the floor and takes me in his arms. "My poor girl. I can't imagine how this would feel." We just stand there holding one another quietly for a few minutes. I appreciate that he's not trying to distract or console me from my sadness; content just to hold me and allow me to be sad for as long as I need to.

I finally break the hold and give him a small smile. "Thank you for that... I needed it."

He reaches in to one of the bags and pulls out a bottle of red wine and some dark chocolate. He looks a little sheepish. "I know it looks like I've just walked in with a handful of aphrodisiacs, but honestly I just love red wine and chocolate."

I laugh. "I don't think you have to worry about seducing me at this point anyway. Consider me seduced."

He laughs too and we head into the living room, grabbing a few glass tumblers that look like jelly jars on the way. I decided a long time ago that wine glasses were a pain to wash and always breaking. I still have some for special occasions, but for a quiet night like this, I prefer something that can be loaded into a dishwasher.

After the initial excitement of seeing each other, Griffin and Guinness settle down. Guinness makes himself comfortable on Griffin's dog bed, while Griffin lays down with a loud thump and an even louder sigh next to it. 

Patrick and I sit next to each other on my worn, but comfy dark rose velvet couch. Despite feeling a bit at a loss tonight, it's nice to have him here and I suddenly have a few butterflies in my stomach. Things feel like they're moving fast, but I couldn't imagine any other way at this point. There's an ease between us that makes it feel like we've known one another much longer than just a little over a week. Perhaps it was the mutual stalking at the gym over the past months...

Like the night before on the telephone, we talk about everything under the sun. The Pinot Noir is perfect, and the small bites of dark chocolate are decadent. I like that he's partial to a little indulgence now and then. I'm definitely seeing the trend of chocolate, and make a mental note to take him too my friend Brian's studio for a tour. He makes small-batch chocolate from bean to bar and sells it locally. I tell Patrick about this and his eyes light up like a kid on Christmas day.

By the time we finish just one glass of wine, I'm resting my head on his chest and he's got his arm snug around me, rubbing gentle circles on my back. My hand absentmindedly plays with the hem of his dark green Henley. We stay like this, in silence, for a few minutes. My mind and body are so relaxed that I jump a little when he speaks.

"When we spoke last night and you told me about your collection of toys, you didn't mention anything about restraints."

A small chill runs through my body at the thought of being restrained by Patrick. It feels like fear at first, but it courses straight through my core to my pussy which responds with an involuntary spasm. "Oh... I, uh...don't own any. It didn't seem like I needed them, on the phone that is."

"I brought rope with me to bind your arms tonight." He pauses to let me take in his words. "Years ago I preferred treated hemp...and I plan to buy some soon. I just prefer it aesthetically. For now, I have some rock climbing rope that I no longer use. It's a pretty soft nylon so I don't anticipate any burns to your skin but you'll have to let me know as we go along. It's been a while since I've tied anyone up so I may need to adjust and readjust a few times."

I start to laugh. I'm not sure if it's out of nervousness, or by the fact that once again he's talking as if he's rattling off something he heard on the news today, rather than describing the rope he wants to bind me in.

He smiles warily. "What?"

Still laughing, I choke out, "well, you're talking as if you were reading me today's headlines; not like you were about to tie me up in order to...uh..."

"In order to what?" He still has a smile, but it now looks a little menacing.

Still laughing, I somehow answer with his own words from the other day, "to use me as a fuck toy?"

"To start with, yes... Anything else you find amusing?" He seems a bit exasperated with me.

"I think I should stop there before I get in any more trouble." I'm still holding back a few giggles even at this point. I wipe away some tears that formed and attempt to regain my composure.

"Yes. Perhaps you should...." I can tell he's teasing, but I'm also beginning to realize I may have stepped over the line a little. His embrace is still soft as he plays gently with my hair, but I can feel a little tension in his body.

He turns me to look at him. His expression is soft, but laced with concern. "I know this is a little new to you, and I can understand that you're nervous, but how is it I should talk to you as we discuss bondage; about all of this? Should I be standing over you with you on your knees? Should I make my voice low and authoritative and punctuate each word with a slap to your ass?"

I see his point and feel a little embarrassed because I think we both know I'd like just that, but for now it's a much safer forum to discuss it openly before we head to the bedroom. I feel badly that I couldn't just hear him out when it's obvious how important this is to him.

"I'm sorry Patrick... You're right. It's better that we talk openly about our, um... kink before we get started. I hope I didn't kill the mood."

"No, you didn't kill the mood, but you will redeem yourself for me." I'm not sure what he has in mind, but it would seem he has a clear image because I can feel his cock getting hard under my bottom.

I turn around to face him, straddling his lap. I attempt to speak again, but he quiets me. We sit like this for a few minutes, my head on his shoulders; his arms snug around me. Without warning, he effortlessly picks me up and deposits me next to him on the couch. 

"Go get the blue duffel bag that I left by the door. When you get back, I do, in fact, want you on your knees in front of me; the bag at your side." His demeanor has shifted. He's calm, but there's a quiet intensity radiating off of his body and it's like a current that penetrates deep to my core. I go retrieve the bag, noting its heavy weight as I walk with it. When I return, I kneel before him. He remains seated but sits up and looks intently at me.

He goes in to a side pocket of the bag, pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. "Please read this carefully. Feel free to ask me any questions if you have them."

I look it over, and read that his most recent tests from last month show him to be STD free. "Thank you, Patrick." He smiles and nods.

"Reach into the bag, pull out the rope, then hand it to me." We both know he could easily have done this himself; that having me retrieve my own bindings was both intentional and necessary to set the tone for what's to come.

He watches as I pull out varying lengths of rock climbing rope from the bag. Altogether there are five pieces, ranging from three to ten meters. The cord is approximately 9mm and is blue with a yellow zigzag pattern down its length. I hand them to him one by one, then place my arms at my sides. I begin to tremble a little as I kneel there in my shorts and t-shirt, staring straight in front of me because I'm finding it difficult to look at him. He uses his curled index finger under my chin to draw my gaze to his.

"As I was cutting this rope today, my head was spinning with all the ways I could use it on you; picturing you in all sorts of erotic and compromising positions. There was one image I kept coming back to" He picks up the piece that looks to be around five meters. 

He gently releases my chin, then says simply, "take off your shirt and bra."

Despite the order, his voice is warm and filled with compassion. It calms my trembles enough that I can pull my t-shirt of, followed by my simple cotton bra. I expect him to ask for my arms, so I'm surprised when he tells me to raise them above my head.

As I lift my arms, he doubles his cord in two, then reaches behind me, pulling the loose ends through the fold before bringing it around front again. My head shoots up and I look at him in question. I thought he was only going to bind my arms tonight.

"Yes, I'd originally planned to just bind your arms tonight." He gives me a wink and a wicked little smile. "You've inspired me otherwise."

Oh... This must be the redemption he mentioned.

He continues his work, cinching the rope snuggly. The rope is now wrapped above and below my breasts. I can feel him making some adjustments in the back before the two loose ends of rope are draped over my left shoulder. He moves to kneel behind me, checking his work, then reaches over my shoulder to tuck the rope under the coil below my breasts twist it on itself once, before pulling it up and over my right shoulder. Again, I can feel him working behind me as he ties the rope to itself just below my shoulder blades.

The final effect is that there is rope below, above, and in between my breasts. I am acutely aware of each coil with each breath, but I am able to breathe without restriction. The compression around the base of my breasts is creating an exquisite pressure that heats them from within. I look down at his work, and witness my breasts standing firm in front of me, bulging a little due to the confines of the rope. As I watch, their color changes hue to a light pink color, while my areolas and nipples tighten and turn a darker crimson.

I don't even notice when Patrick picks up my t-shirt and pulls it over my head, instructing me to put my arms through the short sleeves. Still in trance at seeing myself in a chest harness I comply without question. I do balk though when he announces it's time to walk the dogs.

I feel a rush of panic course through me. "I... I can't go out there like this. This is my neighborhood. What if..." I can't finish my thought; horrified at the idea that my neighbors would see me like this.

Patrick hears me out patiently, but still walks over to get the dog's leashes. "I know this is pushing your limit regarding public exposure, but I don't think you need to be concerned. It's late, it's dark, and most of your neighbors are asleep. If at any time it becomes too much, just tell me and we'll turn around. No need to even safe word."

I look down at myself, and note that the dark blue t-shirt is roomy enough that the rope is only perceptible if the shirt pulls tightly against my body. My very firm nipples are another story, but as he said it's dark and pretty quiet out there along the side streets.

I nod to Patrick that I'm ok to give it a try. I appreciate that he's given me an out if I need it.

We leash up the dogs and head out in to the night. The early summer evening still has the vestiges of heat from the day, but the air is beginning to cool. Each brush of t-shirt against my nipples causes them to strain against the material, which in turn leads me to inhale sharply. Each deep breath causes the rope to pull snuggly against my skin, creating more pressure in my breasts.

Patrick is casually talking about a house nearby that he worked on, and how much he loves the neighborhood with all of its galleries, coffee shops, and bars. I'm trying to listen, but it's getting progressively more difficult when it feels like all of the blood has figuratively drained from my brain to my chest.

He steers us up to the avenue he was just discussing, and panic sets in again when I consider the street lights and people traffic we'll encounter. He stops us just before we get there and turns towards me. "Relax Corrine. Do this for me."

I look down at my chest. It's obvious I'm not wearing a bra, but the rope is imperceptible. I look up at him and nod. "Just please don't make me go in anywhere."

He smiles. "No worries there. I need to get us both back home soon." Looking down I can see the effect this walk has had on him too.

Being a Saturday night, the street is lively with patrons heading in and out of bars. More than once we're stopped so people could pet the dogs. At these times it was all I could do to hold still and hope a breeze didn't blow against my chest revealing the pattern of rope below the thin material. I'm getting more flushed and turned on by the minute, and as we head back on to the dark residential streets Patrick grabs my waist and crushes our bodies together, claiming my lips with ferocity that steals my breath.

When we pull apart he looks down at me with passion, but also reverence. "That was so fucking hot, sweetheart. Knowing that rope was under your shirt the whole time, for me...." He shakes his head a little, as if he can't quite believe it himself.

As we continue our walk, he puts his hand on my back directly over the harness. Anyone watching would just see a man with his arm around his girlfriend. Through the material of the t-shirt, he clutches the ropes in his fist and pulls just enough to make me more conscious of each breath. We remain this way until we reach the house and he guides me through the front door.

Despite our need, we take care of the dogs first, making sure water bowls are filled and they're settled in before we head to the bedroom and close the door. As soon as we do Patrick drops his bags and pushes me against the door with the whole of his body. Leaning down, he gives me a long, lazy sensuous kiss while I press up on my tiptoes trying to deepen the kiss even more. Reaching behind my head, he fists my hair firmly, tilting it back before releasing my lips.

We stand there staring at each other, both breathing heavily; his hand controlling the movement of my head. His wet tongue is absentmindedly running along his lower lip and it's all I can do to prevent myself from begging him to kiss me again.

"From here on until I say otherwise, call me Sir."

I attempt to nod, realizing I can't. "Yes Sir." Once again just these words alone cause my pussy to swell and begin to soak my underwear.

"I'm going to push you tonight. No farther than I think you're ready to go, but there will be some pain." I notice with those words his eyes growing a little darker, his skin flushing just a little too. "Use your safe words if you need to. Do not hesitate to use them; there will be no disappointment or bad feelings on my part if you do. Tonight is about learning. It's about trust."

By this point my body is visibly trembling with need. My breath coming in short pants. "Yes...Sir, I understand. I'll use my safe words if it feels too much for me to handle, but please, use me; use my body."

With a growl he embraces me tightly with affection, lifting my feet clear off the ground, but once he puts me down the look in his eyes is all business. He steps back and asks me to strip for him. I do, and we both pause to look at my chest once my t-shirt is removed. Despite the long duration, my breasts have remained the light pink color they had been when he first secured me in the harness. I don't know much about Shibari, but it would appear he had applied it well to prevent any damage.

"Go retrieve your toys"

I walk to the closet, and bring out the bag. I shiver with the knowledge that at this time, the contents of the bag are no longer mine to use on myself. These are my toys, my secret. No one besides me has ever seen them, let alone had control of them. Bringing him the bag deepens the exchange of power between us, but as I hand it to him and I see the warmth in his blue eyes, I feel closer to him than ever.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

One by one he pulls out the toys and lays them on my bedside table. Occasionally he stops to scrutinize one, as is the case of the paddle and my large vibrator. He looks at me with a smile as he pulls out the small sack of clothespins, unceremoniously dropping them on the table. I just stand there next to him naked except for the harness, wide eyed, and silent.

"Are you ready to start?"

I quietly nod.

He doesn't move.

"Yes, Sir"

He stands and places the blue duffel on the bed. Opening it, he brings out a section of rope. "Sit on the side of the bed; bring your arms out in front of you."

I do as he asks. It's at this point that I realize I'm completely naked; though he has yet to remove any of his clothes. This alone makes me feel incredibly sexy. It pushes every other role I have in my life out of my head. Mother. Professional. Friend. Daughter. In this moment it allows me to be his submissive, and only that.

As these thoughts swirl through my head, I don't realize that he's coiled the rope five times around each wrist, and has them crossed over each other, bound together. It's not uncomfortable at all, but very effective and visually stunning. He asks me to pull on them and describe what I feel. When I do, I can feel one of the coils tighten a little uncomfortably around my wrist and tell him so. He releases the entire restraint, checks my wrist for any discoloration, then starts over. This time when I pull, there is only uniform snugness with no biting of the rope. Satisfied, he puts the bag back on the floor.

"You look so beautiful to me; your breasts and arms bound like that. The blue is stunning against your skin. It almost makes me rethink the hemp." He continues to gaze admiringly at me, and I feel a warm glow starting and my core radiate through me.

"I'd like to decorate you a little more." He reaches over and grabs the bag of clothespins, pulling out eight of them and placing them next to me on the bed. My mouth drops with a small release of breath, and I can feel my heart rate begin to quicken.

"Go ahead and crawl up on the bed, lie on your back with your arms raised above your head."

Without question, I do as he asks. He lies down on his side facing me, then runs his left hand from my bound wrists, down my arm, brushing his knuckles across the swell of my breast. Goosebumps follow the trail his fingers just created.




Rock and Water Ch. 05



My apologies for the long delay between chapters!! This one was a struggle for me, as I felt it was time to show some cracks in the new relationship. I truly hope you like it and as always, I love your support and comments! Once again I can't express enough gratitude to FA_JF for her keen eye and kind words. 

*** 

I spend my Sunday at the paint store, looking at swatches until my eyes become blurry. It's hard to focus when my body keeps reminding me of my time with Patrick last night. My shoulders are tight, but the biggest distraction is an ache from my pussy, partially from being a bit bruised by our aggressive fucking, and partially due to an insufferable longing to be filled by him again.

After spending most of their Sunday at the science museum, Patrick took Luka for pizza and video games. While Luka is distracted by a video game, Patrick uses the opportunity to call me. He whispers in to the phone other ideas he has for the rope, some of which make me question his sanity and my dexterity. I make a mental note to include more stretching in to my workouts.

We make a plan to get together on Tuesday evening after he's done with work. He wants to come to my place again so we can talk a little more about the cabinets for the kitchen. I'm a little worried about the boundaries between work and play, but keep my concerns to myself. He has plans tonight to have dinner and watch a game with some friends, so we say our goodbyes until we see each other tomorrow morning at the gym.

***

When I arrive at the gym the next morning, I don't readily see Patrick so I get started with my warm up. When I'm done, I walk over to the weights and see him on his back doing bench presses. The same female personal trainer from the other day is standing next to the bench chatting at him with a big smile on her face. I stop to look at her more closely, feeling some insecurity trickle in as I look at her young, tight body and sun-streaked blonde hair. She appears to be in her mid-twenties. She looks up at me with recognition and her smile drops, then as if deciding I was of no consequence, turns back to Patrick and squats down to whisper something in his ears. Whatever she said causes him to stop his presses, sit up and laugh.

My heart flutters a little. Part of me wants to walk right over, introduce myself with feigned confidence, pretending that they've never fucked; which at this point I'm relatively confident they have. Instead, I find myself turning around and walking to the cardio room. I feel like a coward. For all of my confidence about being an independent, professional woman, I know I'm acting childish; but, after seeing online how many men my age preferred younger woman, it's hard not to take it to heart.

Twenty minutes after I start on the elliptical machine, Patrick walks in and sees me. Cocking his head with a slightly confused look, he walks over and remarks that I've broken my routine of using weights before cardio. I blurt out the first excuse I can. "I'm, um, feeling a bit stiff today and thought it best to get my blood flowing a bit before I did any lifting."

He looks concerned. "Perhaps a massage tomorrow night might work out some of those kinks." His look of concern is quickly replaced with a more devious smile as he adds, "...and once those are out we'll add a few more."

I flush, but inwardly, I'm feeling badly about not being honest with him. I pause the machine and reply, "That sounds wonderful. How about if we barter the massage for a meal? Is there anything you don't like or are sensitive too?"

"I like it all! Meat, veggies, dairy, gluten.... It's all good."

"Wow, you're a rarity in this town!" I laugh. Having a dinner party anymore for my friends has turned in to a recipe for creative cooking with all the limitations usually placed on my menu.

I'm just about to restart the elliptical when he leans in closely, his eyes shining. "Tomorrow night when I arrive, be wearing a short sundress. Nothing else." With those words, he gives me a peck on the cheek and a quick slap to my ass which causes me to look around in a panic until I realize the only others in here at the moment are two runners on treadmills facing in the other direction, oblivious with their ear buds in. As he did the other day, he picks the treadmill directly in front of me and starts his run, leaving me to stare at his hard body for the next twenty minutes.

Once I'm done with my cardio, I go back to the weight room to finish my workout. I'm still bothered that I'd been too insecure to approach Patrick and the trainer earlier, and wonder if my imagination is getting the best of me. Unfortunately those feelings are only bolstered when I see her behind me through the mirror's reflection, glaring at me as I do my lunges. She has sadness in her eyes, a frown on her lips, and an expression I just can't read. At this point I know I'm not imagining anything, but I just don't know what to do about it. Feeling uncomfortable, I gather my belongings and leave the gym.

I spend the day pouring over, and eventually checking out home remodeling books from the library. I pretty much know what I'm looking for as far as counters, sink, and backsplash go, but I'm still uncertain about the cabinets and the floors. Throughout the day, the events of this morning in the gym continue to resonate in my mind as much as I've tried to push them out. Still feeling uneasy that evening, I decide to text him goodnight instead of calling as we usually do.

Despite my text, as soon as I lay down my phone rings and it's him. "Hey beautiful, what happened to you at the gym today? You left without saying goodbye."

I know I should tell him what's on my mind, but all I can get out is, "I, uh....wasn't feeling well." Again I can't seem to admit the truth, and guilt begins to swell inside of me.

"What's wrong sweetheart?"

"I'm fine...just tired." I bite my lower lip to keep from saying more.

"Ok, I won't keep you then. Get a good night's sleep... I plan to keep you up late tomorrow night."

For the first time all evening I smile and relax a little. Maybe I can entice him into a little phone fun. "Mmmmm.... Can I get a little sample tonight?"

He laughs. "Aren't you the horny little one? The answer is no. You need your rest. Go to sleep. No toys, no fingers.... Just sleep."

I blush, because that's just where my mind was going. I tease, "Fine... I'll go to sleep all naked and alone in this big empty bed."

Patrick lets out a little growl. "Don't you worry sweetheart; we're going to put that bed to good use tomorrow night...." He's quiet for a moment, then adds, "don't push yourself too hard at the gym tomorrow."

What sounds like a simple request appears loaded with intention. I can't help myself but ask, "why not, Patrick?" My voice almost a whisper.

His only response is, "It's time for your first spanking."

Those words alone reach deep in to the recesses of my psyche and a myriad of feelings explode within me; primarily lust, but also fear and anxiety. Overriding the last two though, I also feel cherished. He knows this is what I crave from him, what I need. Every venture into my submission to Patrick has been so carefully weighed by him. He's pushed me and challenged me at every turn, but never more than I could reasonably accomplish. The only time I'd ever considered safe wording was when my emotions felt too raw and exposed. If he feels I'm ready for this, then I trust him with all of my heart. I also know that by accepting whatever he gives me, I'm giving back to him so much more. 

He'd previously mentioned that spanking was not necessarily punishment, and I appreciate that my first will not be from any transgression on my part. I suspect that he has planned it that way too. What I experience tomorrow night will be purely from the pleasure we both derive from the experience, without any other events tainting it.

I realize I have not responded to him. "I'm sorry Patrick, I...uh, got lost in my thoughts. I promise to take it easy tomorrow."

"Good girl. If you can, take a long bath or sauna tomorrow. I want you all better before I lay you over my lap tomorrow night." He knows he's only adding flame to the fire that's beginning to ignite inside of me.

We say our goodnights, and as I lay in bed with my hands clenched at my sides to keep from touching myself, images of Patrick's strong hand coming down over my soft ass cheeks resonates in my head.

It's going to be a long night.

***

An early morning meeting with Pete on Tuesday to look over some materials keeps me from the gym until mid-day. I'm halfway done with my workout when once again I sense I'm being watched. Turning my head quickly I find the same young, blonde trainer openly glaring at me. She's talking to another female gym member her age who is also looking straight at me. The trainer smirks before turning to the other woman and resuming their conversation.

Now I just feel pissed off. Whether she and Patrick had a fling or not, I don't deserve to feel intimidated at my own gym. Unfortunately, another thought creeps through my mind. What if they had more than a one-night stand? What if Patrick downplayed what happened between them and I'm in the middle of some break up which may only be temporary. I know my mind may be getting carried away, but all of my fears that things are be too good to be true with Patrick start to cascade in my brain and just like yesterday, I leave the gym before completing my workout.

I meet Johanna for a late lunch and fill her in on all the juicy details. My anger and frustration from earlier ebb as I'm reminded how incredible my time with Patrick has been so far. She's definitely into hearing about the rope and my public venture wearing the harness under my shirt. I don't discuss my concerns about the trainer at the gym. Once again, I wonder if I'm blowing it out of proportion. I stop at the farmer's market on the way home picking up some ingredients for a salad, some fresh wild caught pacific salmon, and a loaf of bread. 

Patrick and Guinness show up around 7:15, just as I'm about to put the fish on the grill. Before the door has barely closed, he's lifting my dress to see if I'm bare underneath, which I am. He smiles. My compliance, whether large or small, seems to please him equally. Putting down his bags, he pulls me in to a long, warm kiss while his hands gently caress my hips and ass. My arms drape over his shoulders, and I go on tiptoes to intensify the kiss. His response is to crush his lips on mine as our tongues begin to dance in a way that sends sparks down my spine.

We pull apart, and the impassioned look burning in his ice-blue eyes erases any anxiety or insecurity that I've been feeling. 

"How are you feeling today" He asks. "All better?'

I hate that my dishonesty has carried on to this evening. Taking a deep shaky breath, I resolve to admit my petty jealousy. I pull myself away to stand back a little. His comforting hold is the last thing I deserve while I admit that I've lied for the past two days. "I'm fine. I just...I haven't been altogether honest with you. Yesterday when I got to the gym I had planned on lifting some weights. When I walked over to get started, I saw you...at the bench, um, talking to the trainer."

He looks momentarily confused as he tries to recall that morning. "Do you mean Kym?'

I can't quite meet his eyes. For some reason, hearing her name makes it feel even more real. "I guess so. I don't know her name."

He's silent for a moment and I look back up at him. He still has a baffled look on his face. "I don't understand. Why didn't you come over?"

My face flushes a little as I answer. "Well, it just looked like you two were having a private conversation, or sharing some kind of joke. It just seemed like a bad idea to interrupt, and she's...." I can't finish my words.

"She's what?" He asks, his demeanor looking more serious.

"She's just so young....and fit...and pretty, and all I could think of...." I cut myself off as I feel myself getting tense and defensive.

He waits for me to finish, his face unreadable.

"All I could think of was that the two of you fucked. You did, didn't you? During your whoring days?" Without meaning to, my last words come out with a hint of anger and sarcasm. I know it's unfair but in the moment I just don't care. Images of the two of them fucking jumble in my head along with the looks of disregard and disdain she's launched at me over the past two days.

Patrick steps backwards as a wave of shock and hurt pass through his eyes. He looks as if he's about to speak, then closes his mouth, his lips forming a grim line. Walking past me to the couch, he sits down, resting his elbows above his knees and rubs his hands over his face a few times before resting his chin on his clenched hands.

His face expressionless, he takes a deep breath. The tension radiating from his is making me uneasy. "Come. Sit."

I feel my body tighten and stay where I am by the door. "We're not in the bedroom. I'm fine where I am." I'm not sure where my anger is coming from, but I'm realizing I've been holding it in for the past two days. "You can't just expect me to do your bidding all the time. I'm not going to be some kind of slave for you. It's not who I am, or who I'll ever be." I can't believe I'm saying these hurtful things to him, but I can't seem to stop myself. "Perhaps Kym would like to fill that role"

Before I know it he's on his feet with his fists clenched at his sides, but stays where he is. Eyes blazing, he spits out, "Goddamn it Corrine, what the FUCK is this about?" He pauses as he glares at me, his breath fast and shallow. "I'm not ordering you to do shit right now, let alone looking for some kind of slave. We've talked about that. I just want you to come over here, sit down, and tell me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON."

The anger in his eyes and in his words scares me frozen. I know he's right; he's never even used the word slave let alone ask for total obedience. It was unfair of me to throw that in his face, let alone bring up his "whoring days" which he'd shared with me at a time of full disclosure. I know this, but I'm too stunned by his reaction to say anything. I can feel tears budding in the corners of my eyes, my body trembling as I fear that I've crossed the line and fucked everything up.

At the sight of my panic, his demeanor immediately changes. Rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, he whispers, "Shit," then walks over to me, enveloping me in his arms. I initially stiffen before I let myself relax into his embrace. In as much as I know my accusations may have been unfounded, his quick anger has thrown me. This is a side of him I haven't seen before, but if I'm honest with myself, my insecurities and sarcasm are a first for him too.

"Please, Corrine... Please come to the couch and talk to me." I look up in to his eyes and see my own fear and panic mirrored in them. I quietly nod. He guides me over to the couch, sits himself down before pulling me onto his lap. Resting my head on his chest, we hold each other in silence and process what has just passed between us. 

His words are now calm and carefully worded. "Corrine, I'm so sorry I snapped at you... I'm sorry for my anger, but I panicked. I'm not making an excuse, there is no excuse, but as soon as I realized you were holding back from me it just felt so....so familiar. Like how it was with Maureen. I just can't go there anymore. The only thing I've asked from you is total honesty. Could you start at the beginning and please help me to understand where all of this is coming from?"

Following his example, I resolve to be calm, open and honest about what's been happening at the gym, and why I've held it back from him. If he's disappointed with me in the end, so be it. "It wasn't just seeing the two of you talking, and laughing, the other day; it's been the way she's been looking at me ever since. Believe me, please, I know I'm not being paranoid. She genuinely seems to dislike me and the only reason I can think of is that there's still something going on between the two of you."

Again, he seems genuinely confused. Keeping his voice slow and even, he implores, "I don't understand how you could think that. I feel like I've been pretty straight forward with you about all of this. I'm not interested in fucking around. I don't date more than one person at a time." He pauses to make sure I'm looking straight into his eyes. "Most of all, I thought it was completely obvious how much I want you... How much I want us." The hurt in his eyes devastates me.

Relief and embarrassment course through me with a rush. "Oh, Patrick... I am so sorry for not talking to you right away about this. I just...I just felt so out of her league when I saw her with you. I can't understand why she's looking at me with such venom. Please tell me, is she the trainer you were...with?"

Without hesitation he admits, "Yes, she is, but that was months ago and it was one time. We're just friends." He shakes his head a little. "I'll tell you everything. I'd had a few personal training sessions with her, when one day she invited me out to hear her band play. We both got pretty drunk afterwards and were being pretty flirty with each other, but before we hooked up I was clear with her that I wasn't looking to date anyone. She said she was cool with that and felt the same."

I take this all in, but I still have a nagging feeling that there's more. "Has she asked you out again since then?"

Slowly, he nods. "In the weeks after we hooked up, she invited me a few more times to come watch her play, but I always said no. Honestly, I was concerned that she may have some feelings for me, so the last time she asked I gently remind her that I wasn't looking to date, and once again she said that was fine by her." He pauses as if remembering something. "I don't know.... She did offer that we could just, um... 'hook up' once in a while, but I told her it wasn't going to happen. Since then, she's been nothing but friendly with me."

I smile at his naivety and shake my head a little. "Take it from me... I don't think she's over you."

He gives me a big squeeze. "Ok, we'll figure this out. She seems like a pretty down to earth girl. Maybe if I introduce the two of you she'll back off. If not, we'll talk to the manager. I don't like the idea that she's making you uncomfortable."

I'm doubtful that meeting her will help in any way, and I'm not so sure of how "down to earth" she is, but I'm grateful to have everything out in the open. "I really feel like an ass. I'm so sorry for not being open with you. I'm sorry for bringing up your, um...promiscuous months after your divorce, especially when you were so honest with me about them. You're right though; both of our marriages struggled with poor communication, and I can't believe how quickly I was willing to let that happen again."

Patrick lifts and turns me so that I'm straddling his lap facing him. He gently cups my face with one hand, looking at me with such intensity my skin burns. "Please Corrine. If there's ever anything that is upsetting you, concerning you... or especially if it's hurting you...please let me know so we can fix it together. Just knowing you've been in distress about this for the past two days while I've been oblivious created chasm between us that had the potential to snowball. Your honesty tonight has fixed that, but this isn't something I want to risk happening again. Promise you'll talk to me next time."

Resting my head on his shoulders, I let out a deep and contented sigh. "I'll try my best. The past two days have sucked."

He chuckles, and gives my bottom a quick but stinging slap. "Damn straight you will. Next time I discover you're holding back from me will lead to punishment; spanking or otherwise."




Rock and Water Ch. 05



I spring up and look at him, considering what "otherwise" might mean. He only gives me a knowing grin.

I lean in and gently press my lips against his; one of his hands snakes in to my hair and keeps my mouth on his. Our lips continue to just barely touch, before he lets out a quiet guttural moan and his lips open to mine. My tongue traces his soft lips, venturing in slowly to touch with his. So far he's allowed me to control the pace, but in an instant his grip tightens as he pulls my head back revealing the soft skin of my neck to him. With his hand he slowly pushes the strap to my dress off my shoulder. His tongue runs the length of my neck before his lips and teeth clamp down on me with shocking intensity on my shoulder, sending a current of heat and pain through me. His hold on me tightens as he sucks and bites on the flesh; his teeth imprinting on my shoulder. When he's done, his tongue soothes the ravaged skin.

Lifting his head, he brings his lips to mine and we continue our kiss with a fevered passion. Eventually we part, and we both look down at the mark he's left with quiet intensity. At first I'm conflicted, until I realize that it was carefully placed just under where the strap of my dress falls. It should be no trouble to conceal it until it disappears, and as my concern ebbs it's replaced with that knowledge that this mark is for both of us; a symbol that I belong to him.

The house is quiet except for our ragged breaths. My mind is empty except for being here in this moment with him. I gaze at him; his rough beauty makes me ache. Looking into my eyes, Patrick has a satisfied and sexy grin on his face. "Ok sweetheart, where's that meal I've been promised? We'll need some nourishment before we get started tonight...."

It takes me a moment to realize he's talking, and that I still have dinner to cook. "Oh shit!" I gasp, "the fish!" He helps me off his lap and we walk hand in hand to the kitchen. As I'm preparing the fish to take outside, he takes samples of stained wood out of a bag, along with a few sketched out ideas for the cabinets. I can't believe how much work he's already done, considering he's still finishing another job. I briefly check them out, but respectfully ask if I can look them over tomorrow afternoon on my own.

He looks disappointed, and I feel bad. "Patrick, I know this seems strange to you, but it's really important to me that we keep our, uh...dating, separate from this project." I notice he flinches a little at the word 'dating', but it feels too soon to me to call it a relationship. "I've seen best friends at odds with each other over jobs and money, and I just don't want to risk it. I promise I'll look them over tomorrow and call if I have any questions."

He sighs. "I get that. I do...but, it's not uncommon for me to start going over sketches with clients before finishing up my last job. Deciding on materials and plans before we start will eliminate any dead time that I could be working. I also need to be with you while you're looking at them, to explain why I'm making certain suggestions or recommendations. It's a very fluid process that requires a lot of back and forth."

He pauses to rub his beard a little, then suggests a compromise. "How about we skip it tonight, but look at the plans over breakfast?" 

I appreciate his ability to bend, and agree that seems like a good way to go. Heading out to the backyard, he checks out my garden and water feature while I grill up the fish. We eat in the backyard as the evening sky dims and the air cools. Lighting a fire in my clay chiminea, we roast marshmallows and make dark chocolate s'mores. It's a messy process that leaves our hands sticky with chocolate and marshmallow which we eagerly suck from each other's fingers. The conversation has been light and easy, which is a relief after the start to our evening.

Dishes are forgotten as he guides me back in to the house and straight up to the bedroom. He closes the door, and in an instant he's on his knees in front of me, slowly and deliberately pushing the hem of my dress over my hips until my pussy is inches from his face. Leaning forward, he rests his forehead on my lower abdomen and deeply inhales my scent. He stays there for a few minutes, his hands on my hips, quietly breathing without a word. Despite his silence, I can feel a change come over him; a shift in the energy of the room.

A change goes through me too. I feel myself letting go; letting go of my jealousy, my insecurity, and mostly my fear. I know he is going to challenge me tonight. My lies and distrust shook him, and more than ever he needs me to open myself to him; to give him every part of myself; mind, body, and soul.

So lost in my thoughts, I jump a little when he finally speaks. "Corrine, tonight there will be no toys, no restraints; just my body and yours." He stands and looks down in to my eyes; his eyes blazing with heat. "There will be my requests, and your submission to them. " He slowly and gently backs me in to the wall, looking down at me with barely contained hunger. "You will be spanked, fucked, and probably embarrassed and frustrated before the night is over."

I stumble as my heart starts to thunder in my chest in response to his words. He catches me just before I feel my back make contact with the wall and his body press against mine. He roughly pulls my dress up over my shoulders, tossing it on the floor behind him; leaving me naked before him. He leans down, greedily sucking my right breast deep in to his mouth. I can't quite get my bearings; a current of panic sets in with his sudden assault and I move my hands to his chest, pushing against him.

Breast still in mouth, he looks up at me with a mix of passion and tenderness that completely subdues my anxiety. I slowly relax my hands and drop them to my sides. As soon as I do, he releases his lips from my breast and gently takes my wrists in his hands, pulling them over my head, securing them in his right hand. This causes my breasts to lift higher on my chest, their firm nipples contract and point invitingly out in front of me.

With renewed vigor, Patrick cups my left breast tightly in his free hand before sucking the nipple deep inside the warm confines of his mouth. The suction he creates borders on painful, before he releases it and begins to kiss and lick the sensitive, erect nipple. Alternating between nipple and the surrounding pale skin, his mouth and teeth devour my breasts. He switches between each breast in this manner, gradually increasing the intensity until he's sucking and biting the flesh with such force that my legs almost go out on me. The pain radiating from my chest sends currents of pleasure to both my brain and my pussy. I feel consumed.

He abruptly stops and straightens up, still holding my hands above my head. My breasts are aching and stinging from his rough treatment. We both look down, and I'm shocked to see both breasts are wet and blotched with red welts; teeth marks are scattered across the skin. The sight alone almost makes me come. His dark and dilated eyes scrutinize my ravaged breasts with raw, unbridled possession. My body is his tonight; to give me pain, pleasure, or leave me wanting. 

I'm panting and squirming; my pussy begins to pulse as it swells; juices leak down my inner thighs. His cock is straining against the seam of his jeans, but he makes no move to allow me to service him. Instead, he pulls me away from the wall, backing up until he's sitting on the edge of my bed. Picking me up, he sets me down on his lap facing him, my knees on the bed and my thighs straddling his hips. My naked wet cunt is in contact with the rough fabric of his jeans, soaking them.

"Would you like to come, Corrine?"

"Yes... yes, please Sir," I say breathlessly. He hadn't requested that I call him Sir tonight, and he looks genuinely pleased.

"If I remember from the other night, you had wanted to grind that needy little cunt of yours on my shorts." I feel my face turn crimson remembering my shameless attempt to get myself off. "This is your invitation to do so, but I've got my eye on the clock over there. For each minute it takes you to come, you'll get ten spanks. One minute will be ten spanks, two minutes will be twenty." He pauses before adding with a sly smile, "I'll prorate anything in between..."

My head shoots up and I give him a not so subtle glare at the injustice of his proposal. I've told him how hard it can be for me to come sometimes, no matter how hard I try. He raises an eyebrow and states, "the alternative, if you don't try, will be fifty spanks." I do the math in my head, and although I've cooled off a little, I'm relatively confident I can make myself come in less than five minutes. That is, if I don't let myself overthink what I'm actually doing, which is often my downfall.

I gasp as I feel his hands behind me, squeezing my ass cheeks firmly while pulling me in to him. My pussy grinds against his jeans covered cock and we both let out lustful moans. Immediately my passion spikes again. I reach my own arms around his back and cling to his shirt as I begin to move against him.

He chastises me. "Slow down, Corrine... Not just yet." I look up at him, panting; doing my best to hold still when all I want is that delicious friction against my aching pussy. He reaches behind him, extracting my arms. "Lace your fingers behind your head, then begin."

I do as he says, and in doing so realize that not only does it cause my breasts to thrust lewdly upwards, but it also forces me to exclusively use my hips to grind against his cock, without the benefit of my arms to pull myself into him. He lies down on his back, propping himself up on his elbows. He looks up at me with both amusement and unapologetic lust waiting for the show to begin.

Slowly I begin to thrust my hips back and forth over the seam of Patrick's jeans. I see him close his eyes for a moment as his breath escapes him, before they open again, dark with passion. They briefly flicker to my bedside clock before returning to me. His gaze drifts from my eyes, to my chest, then to my pussy where they linger.

"Keep them open," he orders as my eyes clench tightly while I find my rhythm. In a stand of defiance I open them and stare down on him, rocking my hips back and forth over his entrapped cock. Our eyes lock on to each other in a battle of wills. My pussy lips spread wetness over his jeans, soaking them. The smell of my juices and lust hang in the air around us. Every nerve in my body is screaming to come, and a mindless pursuit of pure pleasure takes hold of me. I lose all inhibition as I grind myself against him wantonly. I can feel my swollen clit dragging across the rough material in that almost painful way that I crave. In less than a minute I reach the edge I've been searching for and feel the beginning of an incredible orgasm overtake me when he speaks and I fall backwards off the crest of the wave and back to reality.

"That's ten spanks so far, beautiful...." He gives me a wicked smile. It's clear he's timed his interruption perfectly to break my concentration. "Look at what a good little slut you are working your wet cunt over me. Perhaps I should bring a mirror over so you can watch yourself humping me like a bitch in heat." His words are harsh and ugly, but the emotions on his face convey other feelings altogether. Lust, desire, and affection are battling with each other in his eyes, while his words are carefully chosen to embarrass me; which they do. They penetrate me and a wave of heat almost chokes the air out of me. My pussy gushes and I cry out as I begin my quest again.

I try to find my rhythm, but can't quite reach it. As soon as I get close, he begins to goad me again with crude and graphic descriptions of what I'm doing. "Such a dirty little slut, masturbating your cunt against my jeans..." He's getting into my head and I grit my teeth as I glare down at him. He only smiles back at me. "I bet you're holding back so you'll get as many spanks as that sweet ass craves." Finally he adds, "...and by the way, you're up to thirty now."

"AGGHHH!!!" I let out an exasperated scream as I truly do begin to hump his cock in short, rapid bursts. My pussy and clit feel like they're on fire as the pain transforms in to dire pleasure, and this time as I reach that elusive peak I crash my pussy into him with such force that tears start to pour from my eyes as I cry out my release. As soon as I do, Patrick pulls me down on top of him, his arms encase me in a tight hold but it's as if I'm not in control of my limbs as I continue to shudder and kick out with my legs.

My orgasm continues to pulse through my body and I'm just shy of hyperventilating. The feeling is both exquisite and a bit frightening. I can't quite seem to get my bearings and a little panic sets in. Quickly he rolls us over until he's laying his full body weight on top of me. The pressure of his body on mine makes me feel secure, and only then do I start to calm down.

Patrick looks down at me, gently stroking my sweat and tear soaked hair out of my face. He's talking but I can't quite register yet what he's saying. In time though, his words become clearer. "....are amazing. That was beautiful sweetheart." Leaning down, he plants gentle kisses on my cheeks, forehead and lips. "I thought my heart was going to explode watching you, Corrine."

I take a deep breath and let it out. His words of praise and adoration wash over me and I feel a warm glow resonating inside. My body is relaxed, calm, and sated. I look up at him and smile. "So now I'm a 'dirty little slut', am I?"

He laughs. "Well it worked didn't it?" He's right, it did. I'm not sure how he knew just what to say, what would tip me over the edge, but he did. "You were a vision up there; completely out of control." It's only then that I realize how in control he remained. After my grinding against his cock for so long, I can't believe he hasn't shed his pants and fucked me yet. I attempt to extract my legs from under his, so I can spread them in offering to him but he still has me pinned down.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks with amusement, but his expression is anything but light. He pulls my wrists over my head, locking them down with one hand. "I believe there's still the matter of your spanking... As I see it, it took you around three and a half minutes to come, so you're looking at thirty-five spanks."

I close my eyes and unconsciously release a quiet groan as I remember the sting left behind by the two spanks he gave me last week, and those were over my shorts. My heart begins to race as fear mingles with arousal. My body is still tremoring as it comes down from my intense orgasm, but new wetness is seeping from my sensitive and swollen pussy.

Patrick leans down to briefly bite my lower lip, before crashing his lips on to mine. Our kiss is wet, passionate and unrestrained; reminding me of teenage lust. But we're not teenagers, and there is so much more that is happening between us besides lust. The depth of intimacy and trust developing is unlike anything I've ever experienced with any man before.

Slowly he pulls back, lifting his weight off of me leaving me cold and exposed, despite the warm temperature of the room. The full weight of his body on mine had pacified me, and I giggle a little because it reminds me of Griffin's "Thundershirt".

He looks startled by my levity, along with a little amused. "Care to share what's got you so cheerful all of a sudden?"

"Um... Do you know what a Thundershirt is?" He shakes his head. "Griffin hates fireworks and thunder; they totally freak him out and he's miserable for days. "His Thundershirt is like a snug sweater that I put on him; the compression seems to help calm him down." He looks intrigued, but a little confused. "After I came... I was oddly distressed; I felt so out of control. You laid down on me and everything just stopped." I suddenly realize how important this is. I look up at him seriously, wanting him to know how much this means to me. "Somehow you...you knew just what I needed. I felt calm and in my head again; I felt taken care of." 

Patrick gently uses the back of his knuckles to stoke my cheek. His eyes are bright and warm, and his expression so filled with emotion that I can't tear my eyes away from them. "That's how you make me feel every time we're together." He leans down to gently kiss my cheek, before embracing me in a hug.

In this moment I know, with sudden clarity, that I am in love with him.

He slowly releases me, sitting up and straddling my hips. His eyes focus on my red and ravaged breasts. His breathing quickens; his previously soft expression intensifies as his lust takes hold. He licks his dry lips before he speaks. "I hope you understand where this is coming from... Your breasts look so fucking hot right now." 

I prop myself up on my elbows and look down on them. Small purple bruises are scattered over the flesh; impressions of his teeth are just barely visible near my right nipple. In a rush I feel powerful and proud that I gave myself to him; to bite and suck and mark as his. "Yes," I answer, "they are."

A second of relief passes over his expression, before he lifts his head a little higher and looks down at me with a gleam in his icy blue eyes. "Do you think they could take some more?"

My eyes widen as my heart once again races. I don't know how to answer with words, but my nipples involuntarily contract to hard nubs, my pussy clenches, and my aching clit begins to pulse with need.

His eyes locked on mine, he explains. "It's time for your spanking; then your fucking... I'm going to spank your ass, tits, and cunt tonight; in that order. Then I'm going to fuck your cunt, but I'm going to finish in your throat." He pauses, takes a deep breath, then asks, "Can you do this for me?"

Something between a gasp and a groan escapes my throat. My body already feels like it's been through battle; but all I can think about is giving him more. I may not be ready yet to share my love for him in words, but I can show him by giving him my trust. Looking in to his eyes, I silently nod.

"No, Corrine" he slowly shakes his head. "I need to hear you say it. This is too important for there to be any misconceptions."

Feeling brazen, I begin to beg. "Please... Please spank my ass, my...cunt, and my tits. Fuck my cunt. Come deep in my throat. I want to feel you. I want to taste you. I want you to use my body like a fucktoy that only belongs to you." As I speak I see him sharply intake his breath and see his expression change from awe, to calm determination, then to something else that fills my heart with pure joy.

"You look so eager to please me baby, and it is so fucking sweet. I know you want to give me your all, but please don't let that keep you from safe wording if you if it gets to be too much. Your hands will be free while my cock is fucking your throat... if you need to me to stop hit me, pinch me, slap the bed; whatever you need to do... short of biting, of course, " he says with a slight smile.

Again, I eagerly nod. This time adding, "I will! I promise!" I'm so excited to get started, I jump up on all fours to present my ass to him; giving it a little wiggle. After years of fantasizing, I can't believe I'm going to get my first spanking that I didn't have to give myself!

"That's a beautiful sight Corrine... I think I'll let you stay there for a bit." He gets up and walks around the bed so I can see him. Kneeling down to look me in the eyes, he orders, "don't move... I'll be back." Walking away he leaves my field of vision, then I hear him leave the room. I strain my ears to listen. I can't hear much, but then I hear a sound I know all too well; the jingle of leashes, the barks of excited dogs, then the front door closing. Fuck.

What feels like hours later, which I know to only be twelve minutes because I've been watching my bedside clock tick them off excruciatingly slow, I hear the front door once again open and close, followed by the sound of expectant and eager dogs getting their bedtime treats. A few minutes later Patrick returns; I hear his footsteps stop at the door's entrance.




Rock and Water Ch. 05



I can feel his eyes burning in to me. My body heats up as I picture the view he sees before him. My ass cheeks are round, but a little soft. My thighs, although strong, have begun to show the occasional pinch or pucker due to cellulite. My red and sensitive breasts are hanging from my chest; their only movement caused by my shallow breaths.

Briefly I fantasize what it would have been like to meet Patrick when we were younger, when my body was firm and forgiving. I vanquish that thought as quickly as it came. I know in my heart that I was not ready for him then; for his level of honesty and candidness.

I hear him walk up to the bed, then feel the bed shift as he crawls up behind me. My body is alive and tremoring in anticipation of his touch. Heat is radiating from his body to mine as I feel his still clothed hips push against my bare ass cheeks. His hands possessively run down my back, over my hips, and down the sides of my legs then back up again. My skin warms with his touch, and I feel my body and mind relaxing.

His caresses on my back begin to work deeper into the tissue, and I feel each calloused finger as they cover every inch of my skin. Backing up enough to expose my ass once again, he continues his rubdown over my cheeks and thighs, gaining intensity until he is kneading the pliant flesh roughly, but oh so erotically.

My skin is tingling and alive; my mind cleared of everything except the sensation of his hands on me. Gently, without words, he pulls me up until I'm sitting next to him. At some point, perhaps after walking the dogs, he's removed his shirt and I look greedily at his hard, lean muscles that taper down to his jeans.

His eyes burn in to me in question. "Why am I spanking you tonight Corrine? Am I punishing you?"

I know he is asking because of earlier. He wants to make sure I know that our angry words and this spanking are not connected in any way.

"No, this is not about punishment, Sir. It's about pleasure; yours and mine. It's about erotic pain; about giving my body and mind over to you, and trusting you to know how far you can take me. I do, Patrick. I do trust you."

He takes a deep breath, smiles briefly, then composes himself before he abruptly orders me to lay down over his lap with my chest and head resting on the bed. "Keep your hands next to or under your head."

His hands begin to knead the flesh of my cheeks again. As I lay there, my senses are in overdrive. The smell of sex and sweat already permeate the room, and the feel of his hard cock under my belly causes my pussy to clench in anticipation of fucking him. I wriggle myself over his lap to try and tease his cock a little, but he's having none of that. His left leg swings up and over my thighs, trapping them tightly against him.

"Ok...." he calmly but carefully spells out, "there will be twenty spanks to your ass, ten to your tits, and five to your cunt."

I've read enough erotica to know that before he spanks me in earnest, that I can anticipate some warm up ones first. I'm caught off guard then, when the first smack crashes down on to my left cheek causing me to scream "shit!" and grab my comforter to keep from reaching backwards. With the same intensity the next spank comes down on my right cheek. Despite being prepared I still grunt as my nails dig in to the silk of my bedding. I can't believe how hard he's hitting me! It's as if he's not holding back at all. Again, the spanks keep coming. The next three come quickly in succession, all to my right cheek, then the same to my left. After those he begins to rub and knead the flesh again. A burning sting radiates from the surface of my ass cheeks, and I know they must be a decent shade of pink already. His already hard cock shifts and twitches under the confines of his jeans.

I feel his hands lift from my ass cheeks once again; the anticipation of his next spanks causing me to quietly whimper. His left hand comes down again, just as hard as before; this time to the apex of my thighs, just above my exposed pussy. I've found that spot with my own paddle before; it's a sweet spot that causes my pussy to overflow with juices that are now leaking on to his jeans. Two or three more there before he begins to alternate between each cheek, harder than before. Tears well in my eyes as I feel his strength and the power he has over me. The smacks keep raining down until I've lost count. I want to take this for him; I just don't know how longer that I can.

Just when the word "yellow" starts to float through my thoughts, the spanking stops and once again he is rubbing and caressing my abused ass. My cheeks are not only burning on the surface, but a deep ache now radiates through the flesh and deep in to my core. I'm openly bawling my eyes out, and I can't seem to release my clenched fingers from the bedding. My crying feels cathartic, and my whole being begins to feel a peace wash over me. As my whimpers transform from pain to unfulfilled passion, I feel him spread my legs apart and begin to slide two fingers up and down my gushing slit.

Briefly the fingers leave my wetness, and I hear him suck them deep in to his mouth, letting out a deep and gravelly groan as he does. When they return, there's three of them and they continue to tease the entrance to my pussy until it's all I can do to keep myself from pushing back and impaling myself.

"Oh soon, my little greedy one. Very soon." He lifts me from his lap and stands me on shaky limbs. Supporting me with his strong hands on my hips, he orders me to kneel before him as he remains seated on the bed.

Cupping my face in his hand, he guides my eyes to his. "Are you ok? Can you go on?"

"Yes, Sir. I'm good. It's so....so good. Please don't stop." In this moment I mean it with all of my being.

"Lock your fingers behind your head and keep them there." I do as he asks, and feel my breasts lift and offer themselves to him.

He begins with caresses and gentle squeezes to the already bruised flesh. He's being more ginger than before, but it rekindles the ache left behind from his previous abuse. I look down to watch as he plays with my breasts and nipples. He doesn't seem to mind that I'm watching, which makes me more brazen looking back and forth between his face and my breasts; the images dueling for my attention. As I look down, his large powerful hands cover and completely envelop my breasts. When I look up, his expression is tight with concentration and unbridled passion.

Suddenly, lost as I am in wonder at his enraptured expression, I realize my breasts are cool as they are now exposed to the air once again. Just as I look down I see his right hand swing, then strike, the side of my right breast with just enough force to create a biting sting but not much more. Our eyes briefly meet, and by the slight smile on his lips I know he's being a little easy on me. He then smacks my left breast with the same constrained intensity. The sting left behind is exquisite, and I squeeze my legs together in an attempt to relieve the aching need between them.

Together we both watch each strike with fascination. Once again, he alternates between the breasts, but he takes more time in between each spank to watch the effects. With each smack my smaller, b-cup breasts jiggle back and forth like a bowl of gelatin. For the first four spanks to each one, he's clearly avoided my tortured nipples, but for the last two, he shifts his hand just enough so that the nipple feels the full brunt of the blow. The pain to my nipples is exquisite and I feel a charge shoot straight to my pussy and almost push me over into an orgasm, but not quite.

Quickly lifting me until I'm standing between his legs, he lavishes my breasts and nipples gently with his tongue, causing me to groan and push my pussy hard against his cock. Patrick lets out a tortured moan, before brusquely standing and picking me up in one motion, only to deposit me on the bed with my feet dangling to the floor. This time he kneels before me, using his hands to spread and stretch my thighs apart as far as I can hold them.

He uses his fingers to spread my puffy outer lips to expose my wet, swollen pussy lips. Leaning in, he lightly brushes his tongue against my clit causing me to buck hard enough that he has to restrain my thighs with his strong hands. With broad, firm strokes he begins to lick my cunt; between the outer and inner lips and then deep inside my hole until I feel my juices flowing out on to his tongue. His skilled tongue leaves no flesh untouched, from the ring of my asshole and perineum up to the hood of my clit. With his lips he sucks my entire clit in to his mouth applying a rhythmic pressure that makes it grow longer and swell. My body helplessly thrashes below him.

He pulls back and smiles. "Look at that fat clit of yours, Corrine; sticking out so proudly almost like a small penis." My face flushes at his crude and graphic description, but his words make me whimper even more. "It's going to be hard to avoid when I'm spanking your pretty little cunt."

Before I can even take in his last words, his right and swings down and makes a wet smacking sound as his four fingers contact my pussy lips, the tips just barely stinging against my exposed clit. His other hand is just above my pussy, covering my pubis; keeping me pushed into the mattress. This time I truly shout out, I can't help it. The pain and sting hasn't faded as the next three spanks against my swollen and raw pussy lips fall with exacting accuracy. My tears return and I try to squeeze my legs together to ease the stinging ache between them. Of course his hands are on my thighs in a second; keeping them far apart.

"One more.... One more and we're all done. I'm so proud of you. I'm not going to hold you down for this last one. You're going to stay still and take it."

With trembling lips, my voice is surprisingly calm. "Yes, Sir."

This time, the whole of his hand swings down and as his palm makes contact with my pussy lips, his fingers land directly and firmly on my clit. "AAAUUUGGGHHHH!!!!" I scream with all I have got left, but I keep my legs open and my bottom against the bed. Pain and pleasure surge from my clit to my brain and back again. I need more, I need to be filled. My pussy feels so empty and needy that I'm ready to stuff myself with my own fingers if he doesn't fuck me soon.

Patrick quickly sheds his jeans and boxers. He stands before me naked; his long, thick cock is arching deliciously upwards. The crown is a deep purplish-red and pre-cum is freely oozing down its side. Still lying on my back with my legs spread lewdly, I begin to beg. "Please Sir, fuck my wet cunt...fuck my hole." In one stride Patrick steps forward and impales me on his impossibly hard cock, groaning loudly through gritted teeth as he does. Air escapes my chest as I let out an anguished grunt. The force pushes me back on the bed, only to have him grab me by hips, fingers digging into my abused ass cheeks, and pull me back onto him. 

He starts with a lazy, slow pace; pulling all the way out before plunging back in balls-deep, then grinding his pelvis against me. Despite my copious wetness, my pussy feels stretched and filled to the hilt; each stroke drags along the walls of my hole, hugging his cock like a tight fist. His face is a portrait of pure rapture; mouth parted, eyes closed. My body shudders with pleasure. It feels as if mini-earthquakes are firing off throughout me. Pressure begins to build in the core of my pelvis, growing and expanding until even my scalp and fingertips are aching with desperation for release.

His eyes open; first to watch his cock glide in and out of my wet pussy, then to travel up my body until they reach mine. His look conveys nothing less than total ownership and mastery. In this moment, I am his fucktoy and I couldn't be happier.

We both let out moans as he pulls his cock out of my cunt. Licking my lips in anticipation of sucking him deep inside, I'm startled when he picks me up and flips me over the side of the bed, belly down. My bare feet barely make contact with my hardwood floors when I feel him move between them, spreading my thighs wide with his strong hands until my toes are barely touching the floor. Once again my pussy, and now my ass, are totally exposed to him.

I feel three fingers begin to run up and down my wet slit a few times before plunging in and fucking me roughly. Juices seep from my pussy, drenching his fingers and hand. He pulls them out and begins to spread the wetness up between the crack of my ass, swirling his fingers around my tight ring before dipping back in to the wetness.

The next time his fingers travel to my asshole, he slides one finger in, briefly moving its full length in and out of the impossibly tight hole before adding a second. The ache from my battered ass flares once again as his fingers begin to earnestly fuck me. I strain to meet his hand with each thrust, letting out uncontrolled gasps and pants as I do. My orgasm is rapidly building; if I just grind my clit into the bedding a little harder I know I'll spiral out of control.

"More?" He asks, as breathless as I am.

I can barely form words, but I answer, my voice laced with hunger. "Yes, Sir! Please...more!

He pulls out the two fingers slowly, only to add a third and drives them back in just as he rams his cock HARD back in to my pussy. Fucking me in rapid, hard strokes I can hear him behind me emitting a string of lewd and nasty word mixed with those of praise and adoration. "...cunt is so fucking tight...sucking my cock in so deep; not letting go." A pause, and then, "you are so fucking hot and sweet....YOU ARE MINE!" His fingers continue to scissor in and out of my stretched asshole, drilling me into my bed along with his cock. As my clit smashes against the mattress one final time, I explode and cry out as lights crash through my head and waves of pleasure surge over and over through my body. I buck against him until I can't even tell if I'm trying to have him fuck me harder or if I'm trying to throw him off of me. He continues to fuck my ass and cunt at a slower pace, milking the last of my orgasm out of me until I lay still.

He pulls his fingers and cock out of me, leaning down to briefly suck the flesh of my right ass cheek in to his mouth before he rises. "On your knees. Now."

I'm so desperately hungry for his cock I practically fall of the bed and to his feet, rising on to my knees just as he grabs the back of my head with one hand, his fingers tight in my hair. His other hand is around his wet cock; my juices lubricating the velvety skin as his fist pumps up and down its hard length. In one motion his hand in my hair tilts my head back, causing my lower jaw to drop open; his other hand guides his cock straight in to my mouth, pushing against my throat. The tastes of my cunt and his pre-cum mingle and fill every one of my senses. He smells of sweat, salt, and his own private musky, male scent that imprinted on me the first time I smelled it and will never leave me.

Our eyes are locked on each other as he encourages me without words to take him deep down my throat. Pulling back a little, allowing me to take a deep breath and swallow, he presses forward again and I mentally brace myself to relax my throat and let him pass. I will my throat to relax, to not gag against him, but with each push I gag hard; thick and copious drool begins to form in the back of my throat, leaking out of the corners of my mouth and down my chin. Each time my throat chokes or gags on his cock I can feel it squeezing down the crown, causing him to shudder and moan with both passion and agony. Finally my mind empties and my throat opens as his cock slips past that last tight hole and rests deep inside of me. His balls nestle against my chin and my nose is smothered by his pubic hair.

We stay locked this way. My airway is completely obstructed by his cock, but instead of panic I feel deep and encompassing trust in him. He stares at me in wonder, completely swallowed by me. Just as my eyes begin to moisten and a tear forms in the corner of one eye, he pulls out enough for me to take two big breaths before he plunges deep inside of me again. We continue this pattern for what feels like minutes, but his control wanes and the amount of time his cock stays trapped in my throat becomes less and less and his pace picks up and he truly begins to fuck my mouth hard.

"Oh sweetheart you are such a good little cocksucker. Your wet hot mouth and throat were made for my cock and I plan to use it again and again." Both hands tight in my hair, he pulls my head back and forth in rapid strokes over his cock now, his balls crashing into my chin. Imperceptible, lewd sounds unleash from my mouth as he fucks it for his own pleasure. I lay may tongue flat in my mouth so it's surface caresses his cock with each stroke, causing him to only go faster and harder. My lips crash against my own teeth, almost drawing blood.

His cock suddenly stiffens and swells even more before he cries out in a deep and gut-wrenching growl just as I feel the first blast of his thick, salty come spray deep against the back of my throat. He's stopped pumping as he continues to come long and hard in my mouth. Spurt after spurt of his come continues to fill my mouth; dripping down the back of my throat. There is so much that it's coming faster than I can swallow; it begins to seep out of my mouth, down my chin and along his cock and balls. He's panting breathlessly and I can see his knees begin to give as he pulls himself backwards and out of my mouth. I swallow the come still in my mouth, then use my tongue to lick my lips clean. Running his fingers over my chin, he collects the semen deposited there and brings his fingers to my mouth, which I readily clean too.

Crawling on to the bed and grabbing me with him, in a last burst of energy he hauls us up to the center of the bed where we collapse side by side. He is lying wasted next to me, legs open and body completely weakened by his powerful orgasm. He lays there quietly, with his eyes closed but a look of pure peace on his face. 

Although I know he takes pleasure in my aftercare, I feel it's my turn to look after him. The first thing I notice is his cock still covered in come and saliva. I rise, just enough to scoot myself backwards until my face is level with his cock. I touch his thigh to make sure he knows my intention, and he lets out a soft groan. Taking that as approval, I slip my hand under his soft cock and lift it to my mouth. I know his cock will be extra sensitive, so I take care not to overstimulate him but to just thoroughly use my tongue to lick his cock clean, before gently lifting it to serve his balls as well. Soft moans emit from him as I do, but he does not move to stop me.

When I'm finished, I move back up until I'm on my side facing him as he lies on his back. I snuggle close and feel his arm embrace me tightly behind my back, pulling me closer. Absentmindedly I run my hands through the soft hairs of chest and watch him. Slowly he turns his head and his eyes crack open. A smile forms on his face. "You look happy," he says sleepily. "Are you good? Do you need anything?"

I almost laugh because I think we both know he's barely capable of lifting his head in this moment let alone taking care of me. I assure him I'm fine; more than fine. Encouraging him to move up and under the covers, I briefly go to use the bathroom before returning to snuggle against him once more. I think about the way he dominated me tonight. No toys, no restraints, just his will over mine. My body is marked, swollen and bruised, but my heart is as full of love as it's ever been. I fall asleep with my head on his chest, lulled by the sound of his beating heart.

***

I wake in the morning to the smell of coffee and an empty bed. Putting on my silk robe and heading downstairs I see Patrick's made himself at home in my kitchen. On the table waiting for me is yogurt topped with fresh fruit and granola. I smile as I also see that he's meticulously laid out the blueprints and wood samples right next to my food. The house is quiet but I know he's still here judging by his shoes left by my front door. I pour myself some coffee and look out the back window. There he is barefoot in the grass, jeans only, throwing a ball for the dogs in the backyard. He lets out a laugh as Guinness literally grabs the ball out of Griffin's mouth then runs circles around him.




Rock and Water Ch. 06



I love new relationships and all of the "firsts" that come with them. This chapter has a few firsts, and even a space landing... Thank you FA_JF for your ongoing editing skills and advice (and your patience when I don't always listen)!! 

*

Patrick stays over the next evening too. It feels like we're falling into an easy rhythm. So far we've always stayed at my house, but he asks that I come to his place for the first time this Friday. We're both pretty wiped out when he arrives after work, so we just eat a simple dinner and watch a movie curled up on the couch together. Both too groggy to do much more than stumble to the bedroom when the movie is over, he puts me to bed promising wicked pleasures in the morning.

For once, I wake up first and as quietly as I can, sneak into the bathroom to relieve my aching bladder. I close my eyes and let out a groan as relief floods me. Slowly I open them and see that Patrick has slipped into the bathroom and is watching me intently with a slight smile across his face.

"Hey! A little privacy please!" I plead, as I quickly cross my hands over my lap. Patrick's smile only broadens as he shakes his head and walks over; leaning down to give me a quick peck.

"Good morning sweetheart...," he drawls. "Need some help there?"

"No!" I blush and laugh at the same time. "I can wipe myself just fine, thank you."

"I'm curious why you're feeling so shy. There isn't a place on or more appropriately, in your body that my hands or lips haven't explored."

"I... I'm just...." I realize he's right. He's seen me at my most vulnerable, and having him in the bathroom as I pee is certainly pretty low on the list of embarrassments.

"You're right. It just felt a bit soon to be peeing in front of each other... that's all." As I'm wiping myself, I give him a big smile. "The only thing I ask is privacy next week when I get my period."

"If you think that's going to detract me from fucking you you're quite mistaken; but...if you want privacy in the bathroom for those days, I think I can live with that."

As soon as I stand he slips by me and before I can get out of earshot he lets his own bladder go and I could swear there was a racehorse in the room, causing me to laugh myself to tears.

"Shower?" I ask.

"Absolutely.... Also, I believe I made a promise to you last night."

True to his word, morning breath be damned, as soon as hot water is blasting down on us his mouth assaults mine with a deep and searching kiss. Our slick bodies caress each other as I'm drawn into his tight embrace; I feel his cock grow rigid against my belly. Pulling my body far enough back to grip the base in my hands, I begin to stroke it with an unerring and single minded goal. Pre-come forms pearly droplets at the crown; the sight of his milky seed has me mesmerized.

Patrick gasps and braces himself against the shower wall, but before ceding control to my intent, he lets out a growl and is upright once again. Looking down at me with a wicked grin, he forces me to release his cock; stepping back and seizing it in his own grip. I watch him stroke himself and my breath becomes irregular as I'm transfixed by the sight of his hand gliding over the rigid length. I study his movements; the way his hand twists at the top before pulling back, over and over again. His eyes remain locked on mine; monitoring the effect this has on me. My hands are fisted at my sides while my legs squeeze together in an answer to the rhythmic clenching of my pussy. My nipples stand out impossibly hard, while my breasts feel flushed and heavy.

He turns me around, placing my hands against the shower wall and spreading my legs shoulder-width apart. "Stay" is all he says and I obey. I feel him reach for the bar of soap, lathering it in his hands before cleaning me from head to toe with firm, massaging strokes. He adds a little more soap before washing my pussy and asshole thoroughly, fingers delving deep inside. Pulling the handheld showerhead down, he sprays my body clean, paying extra attention once again to my pussy and ass. The hard spray teases every nerve ending and I spread my legs even wider. Without a word he replaces it in its base and chuckles as I groan in protest.

"No matter what I do, keep your hands where they are."

I nod, words escaping me as I feel him pull my hips back; kicking my legs apart until my pussy and ass are exposed and on display for him. He drops to his knees behind me. With a firm grip on my hips, he leans in and begins what could only be described as a feast of my pussy. His lips and teeth alternately suck and bite, driving me to the edge hard and fast. His tongue glides in rhythmic circles around my clit, before he captures it between his lips and sucks hard. My elbows give out and I fall forward towards the wall, cradling my head on my forearms. Without releasing my clit, he smacks my ass HARD, signaling me to get back into position.

With one hand, he pinches my clit between his thumb and forefinger, drawing back the hood. I briefly grimace in pain before a jolt of pleasure overcomes me. The tip of his tongue begins to firmly lick my exposed clit causing me to ride up on tiptoes in an attempt to decrease the intensity of sensation. Once again his free hand slaps the same ass cheek, on the same spot, and I force myself to brace my feet firmly on the shower floor once again. His mouth pulls away from my clit, but his tongue continues its exploration of my pussy, lapping up my juices from deep inside the swollen hole.

Strong hands grasp each ass cheek spreading them wide; the flat of his tongue travels over my perineum and up to my clenching asshole. I let out a cry of pleasure as I feel the tip make contact, then without hesitation penetrate the tight ring. Every nerve ending off the sensitive tissue sings with pleasure, and an act that at one time would have brought me great shame now has me begging in broken words to let me come.

Tears form in my eyes as I beg. "Please Patrick...please, please, please... May I come Sir? Please make me come Sir?" The last plea comes out as a question, and it's answered by another hard slap to my ass.

"Shush," is all he says.

I feel a whisper of hot breath against my ass before his tongue resumes fucking my tight hole. The sensation creates warm waves of lust to course through my body, until it's all I can do to remember to breathe. 

Finally, I feel him rise behind me and the head of his cock slowly penetrate my dripping pussy. It welcomes his cock like a long lost lover, clenching rhythmically with each thrust. Reaching above my head, he lowers the showerhead until I feel it slowly travel down my abdomen towards my pussy. Starting with the pulse setting, hard punches of water assault my clit in a slow, steady rhythm until every cell in my body throbs to the same beat. I can't help myself, I begin to beg again.

"I can't...I can't. Please... I can't do this. It's too...too much."

Switching to a constant hard stream aimed directly on the exposed head of the swollen mass of nerves, Patrick leans down and whispers in my ear, "come." My orgasm hits me hard and fast. I hear a voice screaming and moaning, barely registering that it is mine. My knees buckle, but Patrick just tightens his hold around my waist as he plows into my pussy, the sound of our bodies smacking against each other echoes through the bathroom. Just before he explodes he pulls out and showers my back and bottom with his come. I close my eyes and catch my breath as he leisurely massages his come into my skin, then uses the water to gently rinse me clean.

Replacing the showerhead, he pulls me tight against him; his front to my back. We stay like this for a few minutes, both trembling despite the warm water. Once recovered, I turn around to cup his face in my hand, gazing at him through half-mast eyes. "Thank you, Sir." The look of joy on his face these three simple words invoke makes my body flush with pleasure.

We're quiet, yet tender with each other for the rest of the morning. The plans for the kitchen cabinets long settled, we sit in the backyard with our coffee and scones, toying with the idea of a trip the coast.

***

The rest of the week flies by. As Patrick wraps up his current job, refinishing an antique bar at a local restaurant, I've begun the arduous task of getting the interior of my house ready to paint. I go through, room by room, removing curtains, scraping off stickers from Addie's youth, and taping off moulding. The days are filled with hard, physical labor and I've felt no need to go to the gym as I'm getting all the workout I need at home. Deep inside though, I know the real reason I've been avoiding the gym.

Addie and I email every day and skype every few days. Frank has kept her busy with sightseeing and time with his family. She's already developed a crush on his neighbor's boy who is thirteen, causing Frank no end of worry. Thankfully we're getting on well with each other and I talk him through how to handle her first crush.

He tells me he's dating an old girlfriend from his last year of Secondary school, but has yet to introduce Addie. I mention I've begun dating someone too, and we discuss how to get Addie used to the idea of her parents dating other people. It's not that she believes we'll ever get back together; just that she's finally become adjusted to her new "normal" and we don't want to upset her. I notice as we skype that neither of us flinch or seem bothered by the other's dating; in fact, we're both pleased that the other is happy in their life.

My cell phone rings as I'm careening through my front door on Friday morning, returning from the paint store with yet more supplies. Seeing Patrick's name on the screen, I laugh at myself because every time he calls my stomach does flip-flops just as it did back in junior high. I realize Addie and I have more in common than I'd care to admit.

"Hey sweetheart, how's my girl?" A warm glow radiates through my body at the sound of his gruff voice.

"Better now... I got a lot done today; almost ready to start painting."

"That's good. Although...how would you feel about taking a break from it for the weekend?" My heart skips a beat, imagining a whole weekend together. We're both quiet, but I hear his even breath through the phone. "I'd like you to spend this evening through Monday morning with me, and I'd like you to submit to me for the duration."

My breath catches. I think I know what's he's asking, but I'm not sure how I feel about it. "Um... What exactly do you mean by 'for the duration'?" My voice is steady but inside a tremor is building on itself.

His tone is calm, but I can hear an undercurrent of excitement. "From the moment you walk in the door this evening, until the time you step out on Monday morning, you will accept your place as my submissive in every way." There is a subtle, yet clear emphasis on the word 'every'.

"Wait.... What?" Anxiety flares from within me, but something else too. Wetness quickly trickles into my panties as my breath becomes rapid and shallow. I'm on the cusp of protesting when instead I bite my lower lip and listen to his proposition.

"I've said it before; I'm not looking for a slave.... I'm not looking for 24/7 either. I would though, love the gift of your submission for more than a few hours on isolated days." He pauses to find the right words, which also gives me time to process what he's trying to say.

"You're speaking of more than just sex," I whisper.

"Yes."

Once I realize what he is asking of me, every fiber of my being begins to scream internally that I can't do it... that I'll lose too much of myself. "What if's" begin to ping through my brain. What if I begin to resent him, or even worse, what if I give him everything and he discovers it's not enough? Forcing myself to quell the internal chatter I ask myself new questions. What would it hurt to try? He's done so much for me; shouldn't I give him this? Lastly... What if I like it?

I lift my head and brace myself as I give him my answer. "Ok, Patrick. I'm yours.... I'll submit to you, in every way, for the weekend." As soon as the words are out, an odd sense of calm washes over me; almost relief. The tremor that started at the onset of the conversation has transformed into a vibration that pulses through every nerve, gathering strength as it centers on my pussy and clit.

On the other end of the phone, Patrick let out his breath slowly; his relief is palpable and I know that I've pleased him. "Thank you, Corrine. Before the weekend starts, I want to assure you that I know how hard this may be for you, which makes it even more special for me. Bending your will to please mine is such an act of trust...of giving. I'm going to push you, but I promise I'm not going to abuse or take advantage of your submission; and as always, your safewords of yellow or red are available should you need them."

I hear his words, but it's hard to concentrate because my desire is amping up by the second. Unconsciously I had begun squeezing my thighs together and letting my free hand is caress the underside of my breast, slowly running my thumb over the tightly constricted nipple. Lost in sensation, I barely hear Patrick trying to get my attention.

He laughs a little. "You're awfully quiet over there... That usually means you have unspoken concerns, or you're excited. Which is it?"

"I'm, um...excited." My cheeks flush at my admission.

A barely audible groan escapes him. When he speaks his voice is low and commanding. "Tell me. What has you excited?"

I attempt to put my thoughts together before I speak. My voice comes out more steady and clear than I'm feeling inside. "Well... As you said, everything we've done so far have been isolated experiences sandwiched between more, uh, traditional dates. Those times, when I'm submissive for you, don't feel like games or sessions as they did with Robert." I can't quite find the words I really want to say, and I huff in frustration. "They feel...natural...peaceful." I chuckle a little before adding, "...even when you were spanking me." 

"Those are the words of a true submissive, sweetheart. Do you know that?" He pauses briefly. "More important though, is that you're MY submissive. You are MINE, Corrine." His last words come out with a ferocity I have yet to hear from him, and they envelop me like a tight embrace.

"Yes, I'm yours." 

His voice, level again, adds quietly, "...and I'm yours."

We're both quiet for a moment. A rush of emotion surges through me and I want to blurt out that I love him, but for as 21st century as I am, I still seem to hold on to old-fashioned decrees about how soon you should confess your feelings, or whom should say them first. What's not holding me back though is concern that he doesn't feel the same. As much as I want to hear the words from him, I feel them with every look and every touch he gives me.

"Back to tonight... Your instructions are simple. Beginning when we get off of the phone, I want to lubricate and insert your small butt plug. No playing with yourself or other stimulation of any kind. By 3pm, I want you to have switched to your medium plug, then just before you come over insert your large plug and leave it in. If at any time you need to evacuate your bowels, remove the plug, clean up, then reinsert it."

I decide that instead of an insurance adjustor, this time he sounds like doctor preparing me for a procedure. Judging by the flood of wetness in my panties at this thought, I consider sharing my long dormant doctor fantasy with him some time....

"Yes, Sir." Neither of us comments on what these instructions are clearly implying. Tonight he plans to fuck me in the ass. I feel my tight hole clench involuntarily, unsure if I'm feeling anxiety, desire, or both. All I know is that there is no other man I would want to take my virgin hole.

We make a plan to meet at his place at 6pm tonight. He gives me clear instructions on what to pack, including the dress I wore when we stayed out at his cabin, some jeans, t-shirts and hiking boots. I'm curious what he has planned for the weekend but am also excited to let him take charge. The need to plan and control everything begins to ebb as the newly familiar feelings of passivity and acceptance flow in.

After we get off the phone, I use the bathroom, clean up, then retrieve my bag of toys. I pull out the three plugs, but look longingly at my large vibrator as I realize that I haven't used it on myself since Patrick and I started dating. Picking it up by the base with one hand, I stroke my other hand up and down the smooth ridges. 

Closing my eyes, I imagine that it's Patrick's cock cradled by my fist. Without conscious thought I lean forward, mouth open, and push the head of the vibrator inside my mouth. Using my tongue to lubricate the toy cock with my saliva, I push it deeper and deeper until I feel it straining to enter my throat. My already soaked panties become slick with juices, and the wet fabric begins to bunch between the lips of my pussy, rubbing against my swollen clit. I begin to rock my hips back and forth in a feeble attempt to gain friction as my mouth works over the cock.

Suddenly my eyes fly open as I realize what I'm doing; exactly the opposite of what he'd requested. Part of me would argue that I didn't touch myself per se, but I know it's a weak argument. I stop my hip thrusts and pull the vibrator from my mouth. Thick cords of saliva remain attached to the head of the cock as I pull it out. I collect the viscous fluid in one hand and lubricate the small butt plug. Pulling aside my wet panties, I push the plug in with one swift motion until the base is seated between my cheeks. Adjusting my panties back in place, I lower my skirt and get on with the task of painting; only now I'm miserably turned on.

Remaining in a constant state of unfulfilled arousal, I switch out the plugs through the course of the day until I find myself packing up the car with my bag and Griffin. Gingerly I sit myself in the driver's seat, the large plug stretching and probing my tight asshole. I turn on loud music to distract myself as I drive across town towards my weekend of submission. I laugh out loud as I realize how fitting my choice in band is; Flogging Molly. 

***

Whereas I live in the northeast section of the city, Patrick lives in the southeast. Although it only takes around fifteen minutes to get from one house to the other, the vibe of the neighborhoods shifts from being a bit edgier in the northeast, to a little more laid back in the southeast. Whereas the northeast is filled with art galleries and bars, the southeast has more coffee shops, parks, and food co-ops.

I pull on to his street and locate his house. It's a big, old four-square that sits up on a little hill above the street causing it to look even larger. The house is painted a deep pewter color with white shutters and black trim.

As I'm parking, Patrick walks out of his house with Guinness in tow, a huge smile on his face. Griffin and I get out of the car and before I know it he grabs me off the sidewalk in a huge bear hug; lifting me high off of the ground. A quick cop of my ass assures him that the plug is in place. With wide eyes and a devious grin, he pushes the plug in deeper through my clothes causing me to let out a lustful moan. A little protective of me, Griffin begins to nip at Patrick's ankles until he relents and returns me carefully back onto the sidewalk. Before heading up to the house, Patrick says he'd like to show me something, so I leash up Griffin before he takes my hand and leads me up his street a short distance.

At the corner of his street, just down from his house, is a gorgeous street mural painted on the pavement taking up the entire intersection. On the corner itself is a small, covered gazebo with a bench and a bulletin board housing multiple fliers. Patrick tells me that he built the gazebo over 10 years ago as a neighborhood meeting place, and that the mural had been designed and partially painted by his ex-wife Maureen. I do my best to appreciate its beauty, but I feel the sharp edge of caddy jealousy and even a little ire course through me. Rationally, I know it's unfair since I don't know her side of what went wrong between the two of them, but looking at what they once created together for their neighborhood shows me that at one time she was just as invested as he was in their marriage and community before letting it all go. My heart breaks for him. A flash of my own culpability in the deterioration of my marriage stings me as I realize I'm in no place to cast stones. 




Rock and Water Ch. 06



We head back to my car and grab my bag. Walking up the stairs that lead to his house, I see that along with the Bronco there's a covered motorcycle in the driveway. I'd forgotten that during our first hike he'd mentioned that he owned one, but didn't use it much for city riding. Removing the cover, he reveals with pride a 1976 BMW R75/6, with a black tank. It's been since well before my marriage that I've been on a bike. In my mid-twenties I'd even taken the Motorcycle Safety Federation class with the thought that I'd buy my own, but never did. He asks if I'd be comfortable going for a ride on Sunday, and I nod with uncontained excitement. 

As we approach the front door, he mentions that he and his wife bought it thirteen years ago; three years after they'd married. I remember that he'd mentioned that he married at twenty-five. Doing the math in my head I realize that makes him forty-one to my forty-two and I pause in the doorway feeling a bit stunned. For whatever reason, maybe the greying in his hair, I'd assumed he was older than me. Briefly I close my eyes as I process this new bit of information. He notices the change in my demeanor and asks me what's wrong. I tell him it's nothing, but it's clear by his expression he knows otherwise and backs me out the door.

"Ok Corrine... You need to talk to me. Do you have reservations about this weekend?" Although his tone is serious, his eyes impart worry and concern.

"What?" I answer, stunned. "No! I have no reservations at all. I want this... I want to be here." Summoning the courage to tell him the truth, I admit that I'm thrown off about being older than him.

Patrick throws his head back and laughs robustly. "Oh shit! You had me scared there for a moment!" Failing to see the humor, I step away from him, crossing my hands over my chest as I wait for him to stop laughing. Only then does he see how serious I am, but this only reignites his laughter once more.

"What is so fucking funny about this?" I want to come off as stern, but his laughter is infectious and I can't help but crack a smile.

"What's so fucking funny? Are you serious?" He just stares at me smiling for a bit, shaking his head. "Here I thought you were about to hightail it away from here...away from me and what I've asked from you; but instead you're worried about a few months difference in our age?" Before I know it, he's standing directly in front of me cupping my face in both hands; forcing me to look him in the eyes. "I don't give a rat's ass if you're ten months or ten years older than me. You're smart as hell, turn me on until I can't think straight, and every time we say goodbye all I can think about is seeing you again."

The warmth in his eyes and the sincerity of his words knock the wind out of me. No words have ever made me feel so cherished, and all I want in this moment is to make him feel the same. Walking through his front door is the best way to start. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I gently kiss his lips. "Thank you, Sir. May we go inside now?"

His expression becomes pensive as he looks at me for a few moments longer. He nods his head once. "Ok....let's do this."

I'm not sure what I was expecting as we entered the house. Perhaps that he would ask me to kneel, or strip. I thought he might have a list of instructions on how to address him or behave over the weekend lest I get punished. There were no such guidelines offered. In fact, he was acting as he would on any other night, telling me about finishing his job at the bar and the aged bottle of whiskey they gave him as a thank you. We take off our shoes in the foyer, and he goes about giving me a tour.

The interior of his house is all old hardwood floors, antique rugs and comfortable furniture. There's an odd assortment of industrial art and abstract paintings, along with an old refinished bar in his basement with original built in taps. I discover that he brews his own beer as a pastime and frequently invites friends over to watch soccer or basketball on the large screen television centered on the exposed brick wall. Overall, the house so far has a strong male presence. I suspect he must have purged any trace of Maureen from it after she left him.

His kitchen is small, but efficient. The defining features are an industrial grade oven that he salvaged from a restaurant supply store, and the beautiful butcher block counters. I smile as I check out his cabinets, the design not too far off from what I asked for myself, although the wood is a bit lighter than I'd requested.

What strikes me the most about his house is how alive it is with plants. From large potted ones to hanging spider plants and ferns, I'm in awe at the time and effort that must go into their care. I'm drawn to the far wall where a trellis runs from floor to ceiling. Rooted in to a large ceramic pot on the floor, is a vine-like plant with thick, dark green, curly leaves. It seems to have crawled up the trellis and taken over half of the wall. Long strands hang loose and a few have small bunches of pink flowers. 

He walks up next to me, placing his arm casually around my shoulders. "It's a Hindu Rope plant... also known as Hoya Compacta. My grandmother started this one from a clipping over 35 years ago. It was quite a feat to bring it here after she passed.

"It's stunning. You never told me of your love for plants."

He laughs, and even looks a little embarrassed. "I figured I'd let my obsessive habits reveal themselves one by one. Don't want to overwhelm you from the get go."

Before heading upstairs, we briefly go to his back deck and yard. Unsurprisingly, there's a bar set up, also with a built in tap. A large grill and smoker are set off to one side of the deck, while two refinished picnic tables, attached benches and all, take up the other side. The plants are as lush and varied as they were inside.

We head back into the house. After grabbing my bag, he guides me towards the stairs. As we walk up the stairs I'm acutely aware of the large plug that with each step simultaneously feels as if it is pressing deeper yet also slipping. I clench tighter to ensure it won't fall out, and needless to say it is a relief when I reach the last step. I pause at the top in secret satisfaction with myself for my success, only to see the amused look on his face which makes it clear that my struggle was not so secret after all.

I roll my eyes at him and he just smiles harder. At the top of the stairs, there is immediately a door on the left where his home office is. Along with a traditional desk which has his laptop and printer set up, he has a drafting table currently covered in various sketches. Many photographs of finished work are haphazardly thumbtacked to the walls.

To the right of the stairs is a hallway with two doors on either side, along with a final door at the end of the short hallway. The door on the left leads to a sparsely furnished guest room, while the door on the right leads to the guest bathroom. His descriptions of these rooms are limited. I notice as we approach what I assume is the master bedroom his demeanor, and even his posture, have shifted. Just minutes before he projected ease and humor; now he radiates quiet intensity. In response, all thoughts and emotions come to a crashing halt as my mind begins to clear itself of everything except what is happening right here, right now.

We walk through the door and he sets down my bag. I take in his room; slate grey walls, off-white trim, wrought iron king bed with a large antique chest at the foot of it. There are old, wood nightstands with their own lights on either side of the bed. Two windows look out to the backyard, with large black-out shutters that are currently open. There are sliding doors that likely lead to a closet, and an open door that appears to lead into his bathroom. As with the rest of the house, a few paintings and plants decorate the room. A faded Persian rug covers most of the hardwood floor.

My perusal of the room is brief, as my eyes continue to be drawn to not his bed, but what is on top of it. I walk closer to the bed, but he stays where he is by the door allowing me to explore on my own. Lying on the neatly made bed, still in their packaging, are an array of leather cuffs, floggers, whips, vibrators, dildos, plugs, beads, clamps, a hand-held massager and rope. Almost the entire bed is covered, and I realize there's more on one of the nightstands. Walking over I see some paraffin wax candles and a box. Picking up the box, I see that it's a Chinese cupping set. I look at him in question and he just gives me a sexy smile.

Placing it back on the nightstand, I look back at the bed. It's almost too much to take in at once, but curiosity and excitement begin to tingle inside of me. I go to pick up a flogger, but look back at him first. Patrick nods his approval, his eyes transfixed on me and my reaction to his collection. I pick up the black leather flogger; it feels heavy in my hand. Tendrils of leather hang from the handle, each with a single knot tied near the end. I run the ends of the flogger against my other palm, causing a chill to run down my arm. Placing it back on the bed, I run my hands briefly over the coiled, single-tailed whip. I don't know whether its fear or avoidance, but I move on quickly to the next toys.

The collection of vibrators and plugs in various shapes and sizes is similar to my own. There is a box with a picture of a very large dildo with a suction cup which seizes my attention and makes my cunt twitch. Last year Robert had sent me a link to a video of a woman forced to fuck herself on one of these as she was flogged, and I'd masturbated more than once to it as I imagined myself in her place.

Again I look at him for permission and he nods. I remove the dildo from its packaging, and feel its weight and thickness before attempting to encircle my hand around it. My hands are of average size for a woman, but I can just barely touch my thumb to my middle finger. Between the length and the width it appears a little bigger than my favorite vibrator at home. I've never bought a dildo before, preferring the benefits of vibrations should I need them. I replace it into its box and lay it on the bed.

Lastly, I run my hands over the coils of soft hemp rope and briefly flash back to the feel of the nylon rope as it rested snug against my chest just last weekend. I feel Patrick approach me from behind until he is standing directly behind me with his arms snuggly encircling my own.

"I can't tell you how hot it was to watch you scrutinize those toys. It almost looked like you were shopping at a farmer's market, deciding which peach to purchase until I saw you flush as you picked up the flogger."

"I, uh...like the flogger." I look down as I say this, my flush spreading.

"I also saw your reaction to the whip, and at another time we'll address that. Just know that for now I have no intention of using it on you any time soon." Relief, but also an odd twinge of disappointment course through me. It's true, the whip made me wary, but I'm concerned that my reaction to it may inhibit him from introducing me to whip-play; which by the fact that he bought one means it's something that he enjoys. I'm about to protest but he stops me.

"Take note that I said it wouldn't be any time soon; I didn't say never." The stern tone and certainty of his words make me know this is true, and my eyes close as I picture Patrick above me, the handle of the whip firmly in his grip. I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding and feel the familiar twinges of lust forming deep in my gut, causing my pussy walls to swell and my nipples to become tight and erect against the thin material of my tank top.

He pulls me even tighter into his embrace. "It's important to me that you see that everything here is new; that it's all for you." He pauses before continuing. "As my marriage was crumbling, I tossed everything I had because it was too painful of a reminder for me... of all of the lies and deception that had become of us. Until I met you, I wasn't even certain if I'd ever find a partner that I could share this with again. I don't mean finding someone to play with, that's easy enough to find in a club or online... I mean a true partner...someone to love."

My breath catches as I hear his last words. I'm not sure if it's an admission of love, or a just a desire for it. In this moment though, I don't really care.

"I bought these earlier today, each one with you in mind." His cock begins to harden against my lower back, and I reflexively grind my hips against him. "Be still," he commands. "I'd considered having a little fun and taking you with me, but in truth I don't think I could have handled the distraction." He laughs a little before adding, "I was hard the whole time I was shopping as it was."

I smile as I revel at the image of my dominant, always in control boyfriend unable to control his hard-on while shopping for toys for me...for us. I realize that even in my own mind, this is my first admission that he is, in fact, my boyfriend.

Patrick moves from around me, heading to the trunk and opening it. The inside of the oversized trunk appears to have been refinished, and has multiple pull out shelves and compartments. Meticulously he begins to remove items from the bed and packs them into the trunk. Every item appears to have its place predetermined by him. Remaining on the bed are only leather wrist cuffs, two carabiners, nipple clamps, and lubricant.

Steady gaze fixed on me; he walks back and instructs me to sit on the side of the bed, causing the butt plug to settle deep inside of me. I'm forced to look up at him and suddenly he looks larger than life, or more to the point, I feel very small.

"You've been waiting since you arrived here for some sort of instructions or guidelines for the weekend." He says this as a statement as we both know it's true, but he still pauses for a response.

"Yes Sir." Every ounce of my attention is on him. His ice-blue eyes are bright and intense as he stands over me. My body, hyperaware of his proximity begins to respond on its own accord. Aromatic juices begin to seep in to my panties, as my breasts continue to swell.

Reaching down, he lifts my thin bra and tank top over my breasts, leaving them to rest on my upper chest; no longer of consequence to him. He inspects my flushed breasts briefly; perhaps ensuring that the marks and small bruises from the other night have faded. Taking both nipples between his fingers, he gradually begins to pinch them as he resumes speaking.

"Here are the rules for the weekend... One, in the house or when we're alone together out of the house, I'm Sir. In public, I'm Patrick." His grip on my nipples tightens, triggering a spasm in my pussy.

"Two, you will not deny me any request, sexual or otherwise." Pinching my nipples harder, he begins to slowly pull them outwards. I respond with a throaty moan. 

"Three, you will be punished if you break either rule one or two. The level of punishment will fit the infraction." Both nipples are twisted ninety degrees and held there. I begin to breathe rapidly through my nose, not wanting to tempt fate by opening my mouth for fear that I might shout out in pain.

"Lastly, as we discussed earlier on the phone, I expect you to use your safewords if at any time you feel your emotional or physical well-being are at risk; this includes during punishment." With one final tug he lets go and they bounce back to my chest. Briefly the pain ratchets up and my eyes squeeze shut as I absorb the pain.

"OPEN THEM!" My eyes shoot open in time to see him drop to his knees, alternately suckling each of my breasts, soothing the tortured nipples with his tongue. With a final lingering lick along my cleavage, he reaches behind me to retrieve the wrist cuffs. With a pair of scissors I hadn't noticed on the nightstand, he cuts away the packaging and hands the cuffs to me. I feel the weight of the cuffs in my hands, stroking the black leather. They appear well crafted, and although the leather is new and still slightly stiff, there is also softness to them. Large gauge, quick release buckles are on one side, while O-rings adorn the other.

He buckles them securely to my wrists, ensuring that he can easily fit two fingers underneath while also making sure I can't slip out. He turns the O-rings to the inside of my wrists, then secures them together in front of me with a carabiner. Instructing me to lay on my back with my head towards the headboard, he lifts my arms above my head, securing my wrists to the wrought iron headboard with the other carabiner.

Tilting my head back a little, I look in wonder at the thick black leather and chrome binding my pale wrists to the headboard. The visual alone creates a delicious sense of helplessness; but when I test the restraints and feel the tug of leather against my skin and hear the loud clang of chrome against iron, my body convulses as if I've been shocked. Pulling my legs tightly together and bringing my knees close in, I squeeze my cunt muscles and begin rapidly rocking my hips back and forth as I feel myself suddenly reeling towards orgasm. The plug in my ass stimulates me with each thrust and just before the wave crashes I feel my ankles grabbed, pulled down and apart. I can't help myself when I scream "No!" and begin flailing against the bed.

"Corrine... CORRINE!!" I hear Patrick calling me, but it takes a moment for me to realize what just happened and I blush with embarrassment. "You're fine sweetie... I know this is all new to you. It's a lot to take in. That was a beautiful display, but holy shit... I can't say I've ever seen someone almost come from just seeing themselves in wrist cuffs." This makes me blush even more, and I turn my head away.

"Look at me." I do, and am met by warm but incredibly impassioned eyes. "You are the most passionate, responsive, and oh so lucky for me, easily embarrassed little slut I've met." He gives me a crooked grin as he slowly slips my skirt and panties down and off my legs. "Fuck. I love that no one else knows what a wicked little woman you are."

Patrick slowly rises from the bed and in no rush removes his clothes. My eyes take in his long, trim runner's body. His chest is rises and falls rapidly, in contrast to his slow, languid movements. My eyes travel down his torso, from the well-defined muscles of his abdomen to the sexy trail of hair leading to his very erect cock. It twitches and bobs as he casually massages his balls while staring down at me. Forgetting my restraints, I struggle to rise to him, only to land with a soft thud back on the bed. 

Crawling over me, he straddles my hips; his cock and balls resting on my soft belly. At some point he's picked up the nipple clamps and dangles them overhead for me to see. They're wide clamps covered in black rubber; each with a screw to adjust the tension. He spends a brief time lightly pinching and twisting my nipples to make them erect before closing the clamps around each one, including some of the areolas. He places them in quick succession without allowing me to adjust to the first. I scream and buck, but he leans down penetrates my lips, muffling me by driving his tongue deep into my mouth.

We make-out like teenagers, grinding our bodies together, although mine helpless against his probing and punishing hands. One of his hands rests on the chain connecting the clamps, periodically giving it a light tug. His other hand alternately massages and pinches the flesh of my breasts and the undersides of my arms, each torment sending stabs of pleasure to my swollen, dripping cunt.

Pulling away from me, Patrick sits up on his knees as I continue to writhe before him. Grabbing two pillows, he stacks them, then tucks them under my hips and bottom.

"Spread your legs wide and place your feet on the bed, as close to your lovely ass as you can."




Rock and Water Ch. 06



I grunt as I get myself into the position he asks; only when I'm done do I realize how lewdly I'm spread in front of him. My pussy lips open before him as the plug shamelessly protrudes from my tight hole.

He takes the handle and begins to slowly rotate the plug side to side, waking up the sensitive flesh and sending shivers through me. Pussy juice coats the crack of my ass so thoroughly that wet sounds are made with each movement of the plug. He tugs agonizingly slowly on the handle; his eyes fixed on it as it emerges from within me. Pain and pleasure peak quickly as I'm stretched to the widest point of the plug, only to feel him push it back in, just as slowly. He repeats this motion over and over again my hips begin to meet his hand with every push.

"Oh baby... If you could only see how wide you're stretched." He smiles briefly. "...but I guess you already know that. I have to tell you...seeing you like this is turning me on like crazy. It's got me thinking of all sorts of nasty, dirty things I could do to you to make you blush and come. It makes me wonder how much further I could push you; about what other objects I could fit inside your cunt or ass."

His eyes have turned dark....very dark. He continues to fuck my ass with the plug almost mindlessly, still staring, but obviously deep in thought. My own mind skirts over a few images...foods...bottles...his fist. This last one causes me to intake my breath sharply which seems to snap him out of his own dark thoughts.

"Does that turn you on, Corrine? Having all these toys to play with but being fucked by things that were never intended to be sexual? How would you feel if I fucked you in your cunt with the handle of my hammer, knowing I'd be using it on the job the next day?"

My face grows hot and I begin to rapidly shake my head no...but then stop because although I'm racked with shame, I know that I would, in fact, like it very much. In truth, I would love it; but it hurts so much to reveal my darkest needs to him for fear even he will be appalled. My next thought is, if not him, then who? Taking a deep breath I close my eyes and slowly nod my head.

His voice is now soft and encouraging. "Open your eyes. Tell me what you want."

Opening my eyes, I pause to collect my thoughts. "I want....I want that. I want you to stretch me....my holes, Sir. I want to be fucked by you, by toys... by anything that would please you. I was picturing it in my head....different objects. Then I saw you. I saw your fist in my cunt. I've seen it in pictures, in movies. It's something I've never wanted for myself; but then...maybe you..."

I stop talking as I watch Patrick's mouth slackens; his eyes wide. He is truly stunned by my admission and just as I'm convinced my worst fears are coming true he's suddenly on top of me, kissing my face and neck so sweetly I almost burst in to tears.

"Aaaaaaaahhhh fuck, Corrine. You are so perfect. Beautiful.... Smart as hell, and so fucking hot that I almost just came when you said that. I will take you wherever you want to go baby...and yes, I would love to one day fist your cunt, but that's something we're going to have to work up to and right now I want my cock in you. I need to fuck your beautiful tight ass and come deep inside."

"YES! Fuck my ass! Fuck me! Please, Sir!" I feel so helpless, my wrists bound to the headboard when all I want is to grab him tight against me and wrap my legs around his back. Instead I feel him grab the backs of my thighs and push them up so my knees are bent against my belly.

"Stay...just like that!" With gentle but constant pressure, he watches raptly as he pulls the plug out of my ass. Cool air kisses the exposed pink flesh as it briefly remains open before the tight ring closes once again. He lets out the breath he was holding and continues for a few seconds longer to just stare at my never-fucked hole. Grabbing the lubricant from the nightstand, he uses two fingers to well lubricate my ass, then strokes his cock with what is remaining on his hand.

"These are coming off first." He reaches for the nipple clamps, and using both hands pinches their backs and releases their pinching grasps. I let out an anguished scream and buck against him as the blood floods back to the tortured tissue sending pain, heat, and then pleasure through every nerve of my body. Throwing the clamps off the bed, he massages my throbbing breasts and nipples until the pain subsides to a pulsing, dull ache.

"When I'm inside of you for the first time, it's all I want you to feel."

Up on his knees, he uses one hand to guide the head of his cock to my puckered hole, which is surprisingly resistant considering it had been plugged all day. In no hurry, I feel him run his cock up and down the crack, stimulating and relaxing me at the same time. Once again I feel him press against the ring, and this time I feel the head slip in. I make a sound, somewhere between a grunt and a gasp as I feel myself pushing outwards which only seem to ease his entry in deeper.

Yes... There's pain at first, but as he continues his slow descent into my dark, snug hole a level of pleasure I've never quite felt before takes hold. There are so many layers to it that I know it's not just a physical pleasure that's consuming me. As he begins to slowly rock in and out of me, holding the backs of my thighs tightly so my ass is lifted high to meet his thrusts, nerve endings that have never felt this kind of sensation are sending disparate messages of pleasure and pain and the two feelings entwine within me. I feel full of him physically, emotionally, and on one other plane that could only be described as metaphorically.

In this moment I am his to use, to fill, to devour. I know he choose this position on purpose so he could watch my face and my expressions as he fucked my ass for the first time, and I'm pleased because I can watch his too. Sweat is forming on his creased brow; his eyes are locked on mine and filled with animalistic lust and need. His thrusts come harder and harder and we're both grunting and moaning as each thrust is met with the loud smacking sounds of flesh against flesh. Letting go of my left leg, the palm of his hand comes down on my clit, pressing it hard into my pelvic bone. In rhythm to our thrusts, he begins to grind his palm into my clit in a circular motion and within thirty seconds I'm begging him to let me come.

Before he can answer I'm crying and swearing as my orgasm overcomes me. I'm bucking against him, squeezing his cock with abandon; feeling it sliding against the tight walls, in and out in an increasingly irregular rhythm until he shouts out and I feel each rush of his seed spraying against my inner walls. Letting go of my leg and collapsing on top of me, Patrick continues to milk his cock in my hole until he has nothing left, come or otherwise.

Propping himself on one elbow, he uses his other hand to gently wipe my sweat soaked hair off my forehead. "I don't think I'll ever forget the way you looked while I was fucking your ass for the first time. I know I'll be playing it in my head over and over again for weeks..." he laughs a little, "...probably years. Whether you realize it or not, you kept me captive in there. It was all I could do to pull in and out, you're so snug. The head of my cock was gripped so tightly I didn't think I could last. When you came I almost kissed you in gratitude because I just couldn't hold on any longer."

Before I can revel in the effect I had on him, he leans down, giving me a lingering kiss on my lips before he gets off of the bed. He moves up to the headboard and releases the carabiner, then detaches the cuffs from each other. "Stay there a second more... keep your hips up if you can."

He moves to the trunk and rummages through his new purchases. Removing it from its package, he pulls out a medium sized butt plug. Oh fuck, I think. What's he up to? Taking it into his bathroom, I hear the sink run for a bit and I can only assume he's giving it a quick cleaning. Returning to me, he slides it easily into my already lubricated asshole with a grin that is both innocent and wicked.

"Ready for a quick shower, then dinner? Reservations are in 30 minutes."

"What? But...Why?"

As he speaks, he rolls me over on to my front and begins to massage my shoulders and arm. "Because I want to know my come is inside of you. When we're sitting across the table from each other, talking about work or whatever, I'm going to know my come is somewhere no one else has ever been; and if I'm being completely honest... I feel like I just landed on the fucking moon and staked my flag."

I laugh at his analogy. Wiggling my bottom, I can almost imagine his seed moving inside of me. Just knowing it's there, he's there, feels good. "Alright Buzz... I'm ready for that shower."

After giving my ass a quick slap, he pulls me up and into his arms. "One, don't think there won't be any repercussions for coming without permission; and two, it was Neil Armstrong who stepped first onto the moon."

"Geek."

"Slut."

With that lovely exchange we head to the shower, the plug a constant reminder of his claim on me. We've breached a new level of intimacy tonight, and I muse that he's left more of himself inside of me that just his come.



Rock and Water Ch. 07



This is a revised edition of my original chapter... Wonderful feedback from a few valued readers made me realize the scene in the restaurant was not consistent with the continuity of the story or Patrick and Corrine's relationship. Concerns of disregard towards her hard limits were valid and very constructive. I hope the new scene pleases you as much as it pleases me!

Thank you to FA_JF and Lindseymarsh for your original edits, along with voicing your own concerns for the original scene. Thank you to Masterfuljim for taking the time to give your stamp of approval for the new scene since it was your comment that initially brought the concerns to light! 

***

Like most couples, certain patterns begin to emerge. Since our first night together in the cabin, once we've come down from the high of our orgasms and the intensity of our power exchange, we go back to laughing and debating on essentially equal terms. However, on this evening, after he has plugged my ass and trapped his seed inside of me, the energy between us has shifted. As we step into the shower, instead of walking in and immediately reaching for the soap, I just stand there. Passive. He seems to expect this, and quite naturally and casually begins to bathe me with a soap-lathered cloth.

With no words between us, he appears almost clinically detached as he sets about cleaning my body. Beginning with gentle caresses to my face and neck with the washcloth, he moves on to my breasts and torso using firm circular strokes. Individually lifting each wrist high above me, he cleans under my arms before carefully lowering them back to my sides. Lower still; he washes between my legs and ass cheeks, careful not to displace the plug that holds his seed inside of me, before finishing with my legs and feet. While it feels a little odd to surrender this ritual to him, the simple act of bathing myself, it also feels right that he should bathe his toy. For that's what this weekend is about. I'm his to fuck and control, to impart his will and satisfy his needs; but I am also his to take care of, to keep safe and to cherish. In this moment, I feel coveted.

My eyes remain downcast as he bathes me; my mind numb to everything but the water crashing down and the cloth against my skin. It barely registers when his hands gently but firmly move me under the shower's stream, facing me outwards towards him. I feel the soap on my body cascade down to the shower floor.

As if waking from a dream my eyes slowly rise to meet his, briefly pausing on his impossibly hard cock that belies his otherwise calm demeanor. When my eyes reach his, I jerk backwards as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The intensity of his gaze shoots through me and straight down to my cunt.

Patrick moves on to washing his own body with what seems the same mechanical detachment as he had mine, except for the brief moment his eyes slowly close and his breath slips from his open mouth as he washes his cock and balls. He strokes his thick cock with a soapy hand, rinses, then continues to stroke himself with an unhurried rhythm. Eventually he releases himself to finish cleaning the rest of his body, his eyes returning to their study of me. His unattended cock remains rigid, moving slightly up and down seeking his hand again. His scrotum is tight against his body. His control fascinates me.

Under his scrutiny, I feel raw and exposed as if he can see every thought, experience, and emotion, both dark and light, which make up who I am. It's almost too much and I have to look away. I allow my eyes to break contact with his and lower them to take in his body. Rivulets of water cascade down his slim torso, over his tight chest and core. Beads of water cling to his tattoos, causing them to glisten in the light. The ice-blue eyes of the serpent almost shimmer with malevolent intent. The grey hairs, interspersed with the light brown on his head and chest only add to his raw strength and sexuality.

Patrick's thumb and forefinger firmly grasp my chin and draw me back to his eyes. His tone is stern, but his eyes are shining brightly now.

"What's in your ass Corrine?"

"Your cum, Patrick."

His eyes widen briefly in question.

"Your cum, Sir."

"How does that make you feel?" 

Closing my eyes, I think for a moment. "Claimed...marked. Owned."

Brushing my wet hair off of my face, he smiles, then leans down and kisses my forehead gently.

"Good."

Turning off the water, he leads me to the center of his bathroom and dries me with his towel. He steps away, leaving me to stand alone on the soft bathmat as he dries himself. The warm, summer evening keeps me from developing a chill, yet I tremble just a bit anyway.

His sperm still deep in my ass, not a drop lost due to the thick, unrelenting plug. Although I've just showered, I feel so very dirty; so naughty. My tight ring still tingles with the memory of his thick cock stretching it; it's rigid length pulling on the virgin tissue as he stroked in and out of me for the first time.

With his cum trapped inside of me until he wishes otherwise, I revel in the feeling of being a receptacle for him; a vessel. My accomplishments, my profession, my family... In this moment they are safely tucked away. I belong to him, body and soul; reduced down to the purist form of submission I can give him. Yet...I don't feel subjugated. I feel lifted; elevated to a higher plane of acceptance of who I am and what I need. Patrick seems to know my needs even before I am aware of them; tapping into them at a slow but purposeful pace. 

I feel my mind drifting; looking inwards. I think back to the days before we met, when my eyes sought him out at the gym. I recall the way my body reacted to his as he pressed himself against mine at the lockers, and then the electricity that shivered through me the first time his hand took mine. I think my body knew, before my conscious mind, that there was a restrained yet potent power inside of him; a strength that could not only match my own, but control and subdue the crashing waves inside of me.

I imagine him as the strong and silent rock, while I'm the current of water that flows around him, guided by his unmovable force. At times, the rock within him creates a barrier, a dam of some sort, which quells my flow until I become a placid, serene lake. At other times, he allows my waters to rage and crash against him; creating a blinding energy between us. I can almost hear the crash of a waterfall around me...

"Corrine."

"CORRINE!"

I feel his warm hands grip my upper arms and give me a slight jostle. "I need you to come back to me now..."

It takes me a moment to focus, and I realize how dazed I must have looked during my reflection. I give him a slight smile and blush. "Sorry....Sir. I just feel so relaxed...I think I drifted pretty deep inside my head."

He pulls me into his arms, my cheeks tickled by the soft hairs on his chest. "From what I could see, you've been dipping in and out of subspace since we got into the shower." He pauses. "It's a beautiful sight to see. Your features are so soft, so pliant. It makes me think there isn't anything you wouldn't do for me." Although it's a statement, there is a hint of question in his tone.

I think before I respond. I pull back and look up at him. His warm eyes caress over my body. My trust for him runs deep. I trust him with my body. I trust him with my heart. I recall a print from my parent's bedroom that said something along the lines of, "you hold in your hand my fragile heart; do not make a fist". I smile as I realize how vulnerable I feel, yet how much faith I have in his strength and adoration for me. My heart feels safe in the cradle of his strong hands.

I rest my head back onto his chest. "Yes Sir. I would do anything for you."

"Why?" he whispers. His tone is questioning; almost...hopeful?

I take a deep breath. "Because I trust you... I care for you... I love you Sir."

I hear his throat briefly catch as his arms pull me even tighter towards his body; his head tucked into my shoulder. Our two naked forms cling to each other quietly. With my head on his chest, I can hear the slow regular rhythm of his heart, which quickens after my declaration.

Patrick steps back, his firm hands holding me at arm's length. "Look at me Corrine."

I look up and see his eyes searching mine, as if he wants to make sure I'm of sound mind and not still drifting in subspace. Although I still feel a little otherworldly, I know I'm thinking clearly and have no misgivings for saying what I have, even if he doesn't reciprocate.

He gives a little nod, as if confirming to himself that my words were not born out of misdirected lust or servitude; that they are truthful and from my heart.

"Say it again... Use my name." His eyes are shining brighter than I've ever seen them before as he holds his breath waiting for me to speak.

"I love you, Patrick."

He slowly lets out his breath, briefly closing his eyes, as if he were savoring the words.

Opening them, he looks down at me with such warmth and sincerity I could burst. "I love you too, Corrine...with all of my heart. I've fallen for you so fucking hard it hurts."

Before I know it, he reaches down and lifts me from just under my ass cheeks, and throws me over his shoulder. I squeal, "What the hell?" as he carries me with long strides into the bedroom; tossing me on the bed before climbing on top of and straddling my hips.

Patrick looks down on me with a huge, cocky grin across his face. "You do realize this changes everything, don't you?"

I look up in confusion; a little worry laces my voice. "What do you mean it changes everything? What does it change?"

"How can I possibly tie up, spank, paddle, and sodomize a woman that I love so much? How can I call a woman who is so strong and independent, whom I respect with every fiber of my being, my cunt and whore?" 

Now I look up in horror... This can't be happening. I practically sputter as I try to find my words. "What do you mean? Of course you can... SIR! Loving each other doesn't change any of that! PLEASE!!"

In a split second I suddenly find myself flipped over, one of his hands pinning my wrists above my head while the other gives my ass three hard and rapid spanks, directly over both cheeks. I squeal from the sudden pain penetrating my tender skin; from the force of the slaps pushing the plug even deeper inside my abused ass. My body responds to his assault with a burst of fire inside of me.

Leaning over my back until I can feel his hot breath tickling my ear, his hand on my neck, not tightly but still a clear sign of his control, he growls "That's right my little slut...my love...it changes nothing. If anything, loving each other allows us to go deeper, and darker, into your dirty little fantasies, and into mine. It deepens our commitment to each other. It allows us to expose every desire and depravity with a safe and trusted partner." He leans down and kisses the spot just behind my ear. "Oh....." he lets out with a guttural moan, "I've got so many ways for you to serve me; so many ways to pleasure you..."

The promise in his voice sends a shudder through my body. This is everything I've wanted, but can I handle it? He seems so assured and confident. Why am I suddenly unsure? As if sensing the anxiety that's beginning to creep through my veins, Patrick gently rolls me over onto my side, caressing my cheek.

His expression is warm and compassionate. He idly brushes an errant hair off of my forehead and behind my ear, sending a shiver through me. "It's been a crazy night, hasn't it sweetheart?" 

"It has...but...it's been incredible for me; so special. Thank you." I pause a moment trying to collect my thoughts, to try and figure out why I'm a little uneasy. "Is this really possible Patrick...shit, sorry, Sir?" He lets out a little chuckle at my slip. "How do we do this? How are we going to balance everything... time for each other, the sex, our careers, Addie...?"

Pulling me closer, until my head rests in the crook of his shoulder, he gently caresses my head and quells my nerves with a quiet "shhhhh..." and murmurs of "it's okay, sweetheart... we'll figure it all out...we'll be ok." Against my normal nature, I believe him.

I lift myself up to kiss him, but my eyes glance over the bedside clock. "Oh shit Patrick! I think we've missed the dinner reservations!"

Calmly, Patrick begins to kiss and nibble on my earlobe; his hot breath sending shivers through me. "No worries...I'll just give Gil a call and let him know we're running late."

"Gil? Who's Gil?" I'm suddenly on high alert. I think I already know.

"Gil's the chef and owner of 'The Market', and an old friend. His wife Vanessa runs the front of the restaurant."

"Oh fuck," I think to myself. The northwest has become well known to foodies around the country for its sustainable cuisine, both rustic and refined; with many of the local chefs having attained celebrity status, including Gil Hartland. I should know. I interviewed him and Vanessa three months ago for my show.

"I've, um... met Gil and Vanessa. I interviewed them a few months ago."

Patrick moves his body off of mine and helps me sit up. "I know," he says with a big smile. "They loved you."

Letting out a huge groan, I grab a pillow and cover my face with it. "I made a total ass of myself that night! They must have thought I was a total drunk!" My interview had involved indulging in their Spring tasting menu, which was a five course meal, each accompanied by a local wine or spirit. The interview went great; we had so much fun talking about the local food and music scene, I almost forgot I was on a job.

After the interview was over, they'd invited me to stay. The three of us, along with their young, cute bartender, stayed up until after one o'clock in the morning drinking and sharing stories. At the end of the night, the bartender, a good eleven or twelve years younger than me, drove me home and we made out and groped each other like giggling teenagers in front of my house. Addie was inside, so there was never any question of him coming in. He'd asked if I'd like to get together another time, but understood when I declined, citing a busy schedule.

Gil and Vanessa had given me their home number and told me to call them anytime to hang out again, but I was too shy, and a little embarrassed, to call them. We spoke once more, just before the interview aired, and once again Vanessa invited me to come by the restaurant any time, but I never did. I have no idea whether the bartender, Marc, had told them about our kiss; I don't want to know...

"As I said, they love you. When I told them we were dating, they were ecstatic and have been begging me to bring you by."

I look at him questioningly. "Why didn't you tell me you knew them? That you knew about my interview with them?"

Patrick looks a little impish when he answers. "Well, it's not as sinister as it seems. I knew they'd been interviewed by someone local, but admittedly after reading a trough load of articles and hearing multiple radio and television interviews over the years I have to admit I don't follow them much anymore. When I told them about you, after our weekend in the gorge, they told me about your evening together. Honestly, I'd meant to say something but kept forgetting. When I decided we'd go to their place tonight, I thought it might be fun to surprise you. No?"

"It's just that... I pride myself on my professionalism, but that night I'd had so much fun I let myself get a little crazy." I look at him a little pensively. "Did they mention anything else about that evening?"

It's his turn to look questioningly at me. "Should they have?"

"Um....no....not really. I had to get a ride home that night because I was too drunk to drive." I realize it's only a half-truth.

"No worries, baby. It happens to the best of us sometimes."

I decide in that moment that it's probably best to leave it at that. No reason to bring up kissing Marc when it was really no big deal to begin with. Patrick and I hadn't even met yet at that point anyway, and maybe Marc wouldn't even be there tonight.

Patrick hands me my Jade dress to wear; thankfully he allows me to wear panties so I feel more secure that the butt plug won't slip out by accident at any point during the evening. I'd brought a strapless bra to wear with the dress, but he quickly nixes it.

I brush my hair out, leaving it loose around my shoulders, and apply a little light makeup before we head out the door. The restaurant is across the river in the revived industrial district. I ask if we can take his motorcycle, but Patrick declines.

"I won't have you wearing dresses and sandals on the back of my bike, Corrine, even for short rides. I don't want to take any chances like that. Not everyone is looking out for motorcycles and although I'm cautious when driving in the city, you never know."

I appreciate his concern for safety, and get up on my toes to quickly kiss him on the cheek.

The night is warm but breezy, and despite the plug holding his seed inside of me, I feel a giddy nervousness as if we're going out on our first date. He parks the Bronco near the river, about six blocks from The Market. Usually I wouldn't mind, but after two blocks I start to feel the plug shifting inside of me with each stride. Excitement quickly builds and I feel my pussy respond by becoming swollen and wet. I stop and look up at him in panic as wetness begins to seep into my panties.

With a knowing look, his gaze travels to between my legs, currently squeezed closed as I shift back and forth from one leg to the other.

"Need me to carry you?" he asks with a mischievous grin.

I weigh out my option, trying to figure out which would be the least humiliating, and it's a draw. With resolute determination, I begin to walk again, carefully trying to create the least amount of stimulation as possible. I'm only marginally successful and by the time we reach the restaurant I can almost smell my own arousal. My nipples are erect and easily seen under the thin material of my dress. We both know the flush on my cheeks has little to do with the warm summer evening.

Before we walk in Patrick pulls me off to the side a little, and leans down close. "Honestly, I wasn't trying to set you up... Do you need a moment to come down a little?"

"Maybe a moment, please, if that's okay Sir."

Admittedly I feel a little overwhelmed knowing his cum is still plugged inside of my ass. It's having a powerful effect on me; taking my submission to him to a much deeper level than I've ever felt. Coupled with our exchanges of love, I feel utterly consumed by him, in only the best way, but I need my head to be little more focused before seeing his friends.

To help distract me, he shows me the façade and sign on the front of the building which he had made for Gil when The Market had opened four years ago. It turns out they've known each other for double that. Both are kayak and rafting enthusiasts, and since meeting Patrick has introduced Gil to his love of motorcycles, specifically BMWs, and the two regularly go for rides together.

"Ok, Sir. I think I'm ready now." We walk in, his arm comfortably around my shoulders. For the moment I feel as composed as I possibly can, until I see Marc behind the bar chatting with Vanessa. They both look up at the same time and when they see us huge smiles appear on their faces. Vanessa walks over with arms extended. A petite woman, also in her early-forties, with auburn hair and a style that could only be called vintage punk; Vanessa has an energy that a woman in her twenties would be jealous of.

"Corinne! How amazing is this?" She embraces me in a huge hug before pulling back. "When Patrick told us the two of you were seeing each other, I nearly jumped up and tackled him!"




Rock and Water Ch. 07



"Vanessa, Hi! I know! This city definitely feels like a small town sometimes." This sentiment is validated when I briefly look up to see Marc still watching us, a slight smile playing across his face. I immediately give Vanessa my full attention again.

"I'm sorry for being so lame about getting in touch with you and Gil after the interview. I have to admit I was a little embarrassed for getting so drunk that night. I can hardly remember what we were talking about towards the end." 

"No worries, Corrine. I totally get it, and I also know you're a busy woman. Not to mention I know this guy's been keeping you busy for the past weeks..." She gives Patrick's arm a squeeze and a good shake.

Leaning closer to me, out of Patrick's earshot, she whispers, "As far as that night goes, you were cracking the three of us up with your hysterical online dating disasters; including the guy who put your hand on his dick under the restaurant table fifteen minutes into your date."

I let out a groan as the two of us laugh over the date I wish I could forget; Patrick watches on in quiet bemusement.

Vanessa links her arm in mine. "I've got your table right over here. I made it a four-top so Gil and I can join a little later. Hope that's ok?"

"I love it." I realize I really would. Seeing her again reminds me of how much we all clicked that night.

The table is right under the large plate-glass window near the door, affording us a view of downtown on a Saturday night. We choose, however, to sit facing the restaurant though, so we can take in the scene. Patrick pulls out my chair, then chooses the chair just around the table's corner and pulls in close so our knees are touching. It's only then that I realize we're sitting in direct view of the bar, and of course, Marc. Inwardly I role my eyes and realize I'm making a big deal out of a little kissing and groping.

It's only after we sit that I become acutely aware of the plug again. It wasn't the largest in his collection, but the base is wide enough that every movement I make causes the sensitive nerves to be stimulated and my arousal repeatedly brought to the surface over and over. I try to make a mental note to sit as still as I can, otherwise intelligent conversation will be out the window for the night.

Menus are brought over by our server, but Patrick stops me as I reach for one.

"I hope its ok, but Gil was hoping he could just send out some samples from his current menu." He looks at me with eyebrows raised, authentically caring for my approval.

"It sounds great. If it's anything like his spring menu, I won't be eating again for the rest of the weekend."

"No worries there." He says with a little chuckle. "I'm sure I can find ways for us to burn it off in due time."

He hands me the cocktail menu; I look down and am happy to see the gin and ginger cocktail that I'd enjoyed so much during the interview. I look up to see Marc is standing over us. Almost as tall as Patrick, but just a bit lankier, his trimmed dark hair, full dark brows and hazel eyes would be hard for almost any woman to resist; however, it was his ever present smile and sweet flirtation that won me over so many months ago.

"Hello Corrine and Patrick! Two of my favorite people here together." He leans down and surprises me with a quick peck on my cheek. Nothing inappropriate at all, but I feel myself blush a little. As soon as he kisses me, Patrick's left hand gently, but firmly, takes possession of my mid-thigh; his thumb slowly rubbing the skin just where the flesh curves inwards.

"It's good to see you again, Marc." I try to hide the mild anxiety in my voice.

"Marc, how are you?" Patrick reaches out with his right arm and the two men shake hands.

"Doing good, my man...doing good. It's a small world, isn't it? How did you meet this beautiful woman?" Marc looks at me appreciatively and I feel my face and chest flush.

"I met her at the gym, if you must know," Patrick goads. "You should try going some time, it would do you good."

They both let out an easy laugh and I can tell they're playing with each other.

"Marc pretty much runs marathons in his spare time, and when he's not doing that he's surfing at the coast." A flash of our night in the car together brings back a memory of an invitation to go to the coast with him sometime for a surfing lesson... Inwardly I cringe.

"Um...yeah," I brilliantly comment. "I remember you mentioned something about the coast..."

"I did... and the invitation for a lesson is still open if I can steal you away from Patrick some time." My mouth drops a little when he says this, until he adds "I've offered lessons to him, but he seems to be stuck on those kayaks for some reason. You should see him on those waves some time. It's amazing to watch."

I smile at Patrick. I knew he kayaked rivers but didn't know he also surf kayaked.

Marc attempts to look stern, but it's obvious he's holding back a smile. "Be good to me man, or I'll tell her about your close call with the rocks last year..." I don't like the sounds of that.

Patrick shoots him a look, that while friendly, warns Marc off of the topic. "Don't you worry yourself about that, I'll tell her myself." He clearly likes Marc, which is making me feel awkward as hell for not saying something earlier. He then adds, "Who do you need to blow around here for a drink?" This time it's my turn to laugh.

Marc gives me a wink and asks if I'd like the Gin-ger cocktail again. How the hell did he remember that after so many months? I suppose that's what makes him a good bartender. I blush, once again, and say yes. He walks away without asking Patrick what he would like.

"He didn't take your order, Patrick. What's that about?" I'm relieved that Marc's moved away from the table, with no need for him to come back any time soon. I don't think my face could get any hotter.

"He knows how I like to start my night."

I start to squirm in my seat a little, until I realize it only serves to turn me on again. Abruptly, I become still again with a slight sigh. It's going to be a long night.

I know what I need to do. "Patrick... in the spirit of transparency and honesty, I think I should tell you something... about Marc."

His smile drops as he removes his hand from my leg and he briefly runs it through his hair. Shaking his head a little, he asks, "Oh shit... do I want to know?"

Quickly wanting to dispel what he might be imagining, I blurt out, "We didn't sleep together!" I feel like I shouted it loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear, but no one seems to have noticed. He just continues to stare at me, needing more information. No judgment, but definitely on alert.

"He drove me home the night of the interview because I'd had too much to drink, and we made out in front of my house. We were a little touchy-feely but all clothes stayed on and I haven't seen him since."

Patrick looks a little concerned. "You were drunk. Did he take advantage of you?"

"No," I laugh a little, shaking my head. "Not in the least."

"Okay. Good."

We sit quietly; his hand has returned to my thigh, tracing the same lazy pattern with his thumb again. I want to say more, to reassure him that I have no interest in Marc whatsoever, or anyone else for that matter, but it seems best to let him process this on his own.

Our quiet thoughts are interrupted by Marc himself, returning with our drinks. Patrick's eyes are on him in a flash, and a slight smile appears on the corner of his lips.

"So Marc... you fooled around with my girl here." His tone is calm, but there's an undercurrent of both amusement and possessiveness. I hold my breath waiting for Marc to respond.

To his credit, instead of being defensive, Marc smiles and replies honestly, "Damn straight I did, can you blame me? Besides, she wasn't yours at the time."

I can't believe this conversation is even happening, let alone in front of me as if I wasn't here. I can't decide whether to laugh, hide my face in my napkin, or get pissed off. In lieu of all three, all I can manage to do is just sit there with my mouth slightly open.

Patrick lets out a big sigh. "No...she wasn't, so I can't....and don't really have a problem with it. Let's just all be thankful the two of you didn't end up in bed together. That's one image I'd have to burn out of my memory."

I relax and release the tension I've been feeling since we walked in to the restaurant tonight. Under the table, I put my hand over his and give it a squeeze. He responds by gripping my thigh even harder, sending a warm thrill through my body.

Marc looks visibly relieved too, then realizes he still has our drinks in hand. He sets down my drink first, then Patrick's. "For you Corrine, I've got my original Gin-ger, with a little extra ginger muddled in just how you like it; and for you my friend, your Basil Hayden." He sets down a glass of amber liquor.

Patrick answers my unspoken interest. "Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey." "Marc has schooled me on the distinctions between the whiskeys, and this is the one I keep coming home to."

Despite the difference in their ages, these two men obviously have a strong friendship and I'm relieved there doesn't seem to be any discomfort between them. Marc returns to the bar, leaving Patrick and I to wait for our first plates. Patrick's hand has moved a little further up my thigh, but continues to alternate between gently rubbing with his thumb and being still. He removes it to gently run his knuckles over my cheek. I lean into his touch gratefully.

"Thank you Patrick for understanding, and not making me feel more awkward than I already did. I wish I'd have been as mature and accepting when I'd learned about you and Kym." I remember the way I behaved when I first met the young trainer and my ongoing avoidance of her.

He sits up a bit straighter and looks at me intently. "What came down between us about Kym had more to do with her behavior towards you than outright jealousy on your part. I'd like to believe if she hadn't been such a bitch towards you, that you would have had an easier time seeing it for what it was."

I have to be honest. "I'd like to believe that too, but I know some of my hang-ups with her also had to do with her age, and her looks..." I let out a sigh as I look down at the table, my eyes avoiding his.

We're briefly interrupted as our waiter drops off some bread, olives, and what appear to be purplish deviled eggs. He tells us they are beet-pickled deviled eggs before walking away. We dig into the starters; the eggs are surprisingly delicious.

"Is that why you've been avoiding the gym?" I look up; startled. I hadn't realized he'd noticed my absence; we hadn't really discussed it.

"I'm a little embarrassed to admit this even to myself, but yes, I think it might be."

He takes my hands in his. "We're going Monday morning, together, and we're going to talk to her." My stomach twists a little when he says this, but his hands are warm and strong on mine, bolstering my resolve to work through this lingering issue between us. Admittedly, I'm still pretty angry that I can't go to my own gym without worrying that this young woman is going to be glaring at me the whole time.

"Okay Patrick. I think that's a good idea. I'm in." I say with a smile.

His look becomes a little stern. "I'm glad for that, but it wasn't up for discussion, regardless. You'd do well to remember that I make the decisions through Monday morning. As far as I'm concerned that means you're mine until 11:59 a.m."

I look at him with an "oh, really" face, and he breaks into a laugh.

"Fine... I have to meet with your contractor, Pete, at eleven anyway so you're off the hook; unless you want to kneel at my feet while we go over the plans." I can see from his expression that he's picturing just that in his mind's eye, and enjoying it very much. 

Before I can shoot off my reply, we're interrupted by Vanessa bringing us two separate salads, both simply prepared with vegetables and fruits from their own garden plot just out of town. They're almost too beautiful to eat.

She beams, and asks to join us. We eat and drink as if reunited old friends. Occasionally, Marc comes over to check on our drinks, staying to chat a little before returning to the bar. After our initial cocktail, both Patrick and I nurse one glass of wine each through dinner; an unspoken agreement between us to keep clear heads this weekend. The whole vibe feels laid back, and all of my earlier tensions have dissipated. 

The dinner continues as small plates of locally grown and simply prepared foods adorn our table. The flavors are amazing, and by the time Gil finally emerges from the kitchen with a raspberry panna cotta and flourless chocolate cake we're all feeling full and happy. Marc drops off some cappuccinos before returning to the bar.

Whereas Patrick is tall and lean, Gil is a few inches shorter and very well-muscled. Clean shaven with spikey, tousled black hair and dark brown eyes, his presence is just as imposing as Patrick's, but the almost constant smile on his face softens him. The sleeves of his chef's coat are rolled showing the ends of vibrantly colored tattoo sleeves, while another tattoo of a rising Phoenix peeks out of his collar along the side of his neck. A silver ring pierces his eyebrow.

I remember that he is a good five to six years younger than Vanessa, and seeing the two of them together calms my nerves a little regarding the smaller age difference between Patrick and me. The two make a beautiful couple and it was obvious on the first night I met them how much they loved each other. They have two sweet boys, five and seven, who were briefly present during the interview before going home for the night with their grandmother. 

Once he sets down the desserts, Gil practically lifts me out of my chair for a huge hug. "Corrine, so good to see you again!" As he squeezes me, I can actually feel the plug in my ass begin to slip and I have to clench my cheeks tightly to keep it in. Spikes of pleasure shoot through my body; I gasp from the sudden sensation and my body suddenly feels scorching hot. He sets me down in my chair and I see Patrick give me a smoldering look. He knows I just got turned on, and why.

I vaguely hear Patrick and Gil talking about a ride they have planned, but I'm so caught up in the sensations I'm feeling, I barely catch a word until I hear my named called.

As Gil is talking, Patrick is looking at him, but his hand is steadily moving up my inner thigh and pulling the leg aside so he can rest his fingers on the outside of my panties, cupping my pussy. I'm grateful for the tablecloth, but still feel incredibly exposed. He's walking a thin line with my hard limit on public play, but I'm also curious where this is going, and find myself wanting to explore my own boundaries.

As I'd explained to Patrick one night, my fear of public play lies mostly in protecting my public persona, but here in the intimacy of the restaurant and guarded by the tablecloth, I'm a little excited that he's pushing me. I find myself opening my legs a little more, and subtly inching my hips forward. 

The tip of his middle finger begins to run up and down my panties with increasing pressure, just over my pussy lips causing the material to slip between my wet folds. I'm holding my breath as I try to listen to Gil tell me more about the band, when I feel Patrick's finger slip under the seam of my panties then slide easily inside my cunt. His thumb begins a rhythmic pattern over the hood of my sensitive clit as I feel every muscle in my body turn to liquid, every nerve begin to tingle. My gaze slowly turns to Patrick, only to see that his expression has remained unchanged. He appears fully engaged towards listening to Gil.

Orgasm control has continued to be a challenge for me, and as I quickly approach the edge I begin to panic. I've kept myself outwardly calm, but I'm not sure I'll be able to if I orgasm. I quickly realize I may be over my head this time.

I move to close my legs in a quiet plea for him to stop. Initially he pauses, slowly turning his even gaze towards mine, then squeezes a little harder, his finger penetrating a little deeper. He doesn't look upset, but it's clear he knows I'm challenging his authority. He's expecting me to control my orgasm, but once again I can feel myself slipping. Damn it. It's almost like a game of "chicken" as we both wait for the other to pull away.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Gil turns his attention towards me. "So Corrine, I'm trying to convince Patrick for you two to stay out tonight and go with us to hear a friend's band play, but he's wussing out. Help me convince him and I promise I'll have you home by one..."

Relief sweeps through me as Patrick removes his thumb from my clit, but he continues to torture me by adding a second finger to my cunt and fucking me slowly and deeply. He asks, "What do you think, sweetheart? I'm a little wiped out, but if you'd like to go...."

In a rush I say, "Gil, the music sounds great, but I have to agree with Patrick that I'm also in for an early night. Excuse me just a sec..." 

I can't take anymore, and in my first act of defiance towards Patrick, I rise from my chair and push away from the table. Patrick pulls his hand out from under the tablecloth, and with his ice-blue eyes hard on mine, takes his wet finger and briefly sucks the tip of it before using his napkin to wipe it clean. Gil and Vanessa have turned their attention to a server, so our actions go unnoticed, yet I feel my face flush a deep red.

Walking quickly to the bathroom, conflicting emotions battle inside of me. I go in, lock the door, turn around and lean against it.

Shit! Feelings of inadequacy shake through me as I begin to doubt myself. What made me think at my age that I could be a good sub? I promised him that I was his for the weekend, that I would submit fully, and I've already fucked up. A part of me is also frustrated with him. How could he have not seen how close I was? Would he have stopped? I just don't know. Regardless, I suspect I'll have some penance to pay.

I walk back towards the table, but find everyone standing by the bar chatting with Marc. I approach Patrick and up on my toes whisper a quick apology to him. He responds by putting his arm around me, giving me a warm smile and a comforting squeeze.

Using his fingers to gently brush my hair to the side, he leans down and gives my neck the sweetest kiss before whispering in my ear, "No need to apologize, sweetheart. Your little act of defiance is going to give me so much pleasure tonight."

I slowly suck in my breath as the promise of punishment resonates through me, leaving me feeling soft and compliant. It feels so natural now, to bend to his will; to submit to his desires even if that desire is to cause me pain.

I want to take the pain for him, I crave it really. The intense connection it generates between us; the trust. He knows when to push me, to push my limits, and when, just before the pain surpasses the pleasure, to pull back. He knows the names to call me, the ones that make me pant and blush. Cunt. Whore. Slut. Names, which in proper society offend, but for me open my mind and body to the delicious freedom they bring; the freedom to explore all of my dark desires.

Vanessa comes over and steals me away from Patrick. "You two are so hot together Corrine. The way he was looking at you...holy shit. You two have some crazy chemistry going on."

She comes closer and whispers in my ear. "He wasn't the same you know. Those last few years with Maureen just killed him. We were so happy that he had the cabin to work on; it was the only thing that got him through it all. Since she split he's definitely come back to life, but seeing him here with you tonight is the first time I've seen the light in his eyes again. Outside of Gil, he's one of the greatest guys I know and I really, really hope you feel the same way...about him...that he feels for you."




Rock and Water Ch. 07



I give her petite frame a big hug and whisper back to her. "I do, Vanessa... big time. I've got it pretty bad for him."

Conspiratorially, she adds, "Just don't let him railroad you. He can be pretty controlling sometimes; Drives Gil crazy."

My half gasp-half laugh comes out louder than I'd hoped and all three men turn their attention to us.

"I was just telling Corrine what a control freak you are Patrick. Go easy on her..."

He turns to me, his sexy eyes and easy smile make my knees week. "Do you want me to go easy on you Corrine?"

Using a playful tone that could be taken in any way, I answer, "No, Sir.

With the same casual tone, he softly replies, "Good girl."

Anyone listening to the conversation may have heard playful flirting, but to us the air spanning the distance between us begins to crackle with the heat of our words and I can't believe that everyone in the restaurant can't feel it. 

In two strides he's next to me, his arm slung low around my waist pulling me close to his side. "I think it's time for us to head out. Gil, I'll see you Tuesday night for the game. We can plan a ride then." Letting go of me, he gives Gil a quick hug and leans in to say goodnight to Vanessa and gives her a peck on the cheek.

In a move that could only be called 'caveman', Patrick pulls me close once again before shaking Marc's hand goodnight. Marc gives a little laugh and just shakes his head at the obvious message being passed on to him. I'm a little surprised by Patrick's possessiveness, but I can't deny that it makes me love him even more.

The last 'goodnights' are shared while Vanessa and I exchange phone numbers. We're finally out the door and walking back to the car when Patrick guides me into the recessed doorway of a closed storefront and backs me against the brick wall with his body. His hands grasp my upper arms, effectively trapping me; adrenaline and lust shoot through my body as his lips collide with mine and the events of the evening crash down on me.

One of his hands reaches behind my head as his fingers tangle into my hair; my scalp tingles as his grip tightens. My head is swimming from endorphins as they cascade through my body, then just before my lungs rebel against the pressure of his body against mine and his lips stealing my breath, he steps back and I start to suck in air while attempting to lean forward to capture his lips again. His hand still tight in my hair, I find myself unable to move from the wall.

"Sir...please."

"Please what, my little slut?" His head leans down and begins to lightly suck and bite at my exposed neck. Coherent thought is lost on me as a deep ache begins to spread from my core through every nerve of my body.

"Please take me home," I say between gasps. "I need you."

His hand slips between my legs, firmly cupping my pussy as the tips of his fingers push firmly against the plug. I begin to grind my clit against his palm with abandon. He doesn't move his hand at all; allowing me to masturbate myself against him as my orgasm rapidly builds inside of me.

"Oh look at you...so full of need, so sweet. It's almost as if you think I'm going to allow you to cum." There's no condescension in his voice, no mockery at all. He says it evenly, as if it's just a matter of fact.

"You're...you're not?" I slow down, then stop my movements altogether. I attempt to step backwards to lessen the pressure of his hand on my swollen and now very wet pussy and clit, but the doorway keeps me from retreating, while his hand pushes against me, holds me against the wall.

"Who gets to cum Corrine...good girls or bad girls?"

His question resonates inside of me. I'm a professional, respected woman in this city, but in this moment I'm Patrick's bad girl.

In a choking whisper, I look down and answer, "Good girls get to cum."

He gives my hair a quick tug. "Look at me."

My eyes shoot up to his. There's fire in them tonight.

"...and are you a good girl or a bad girl?" His other hand remains firmly against my hot and wet pussy.

I lick my now dry lips. "I'm a bad girl Sir."

"Tell me.'

"I... I denied you access to my p... to my cunt."

"What else?"

Oh shit. "I didn't tell you that I'd kissed Marc, before we left for the restaurant tonight."

"No, you didn't..." He takes a step back, releasing my pussy and my hair at the same time. Raising his palm that is wet from my juices, he holds it to his face, inhaling the scent deeply. "...but I'm not sure I can entirely fault you for that."

I can't help my surprise. I didn't expect him to understand my hesitance.

He goes on. "One, you didn't know he and I were friends. Two, it happened months before we met and it never amounted to more that some adolescent fun in a car." He stops to cup my face in his hand. "Lastly, I imagine it caught you off guard tonight that we were going to the restaurant, not to mention that I was friends with Gil and Vanessa. It wasn't quite fair of me to throw that at you when I did; when you were just coming out of a pretty deep subspace. You didn't really have any time to wrap your head around it. In the end you handled it all beautifully though. Thank you."

I'm so grateful for his understanding that I attempt to embrace him, only to have his hand drop from my face to grip my breast, HARD. I gasp at the shock of pain that radiates through my chest before transforming to acute pleasure in my core.

"That doesn't change that you've been a bad girl who denied me her cunt. I know you very well, my love. I know you were close to orgasm, and I know how to pull you back, which had been my intention. You doubted me and my ability to protect you; you challenged my authority. My question to you is, do you feel that my actions at the table warranted a safeword, had you been able to convey one?"

I think long and hard before answering, and voice the only honest conclusion I can come to. "No."

Patrick pauses briefly, and the air is silent except for our breaths. "You do realize there's only one way to make this right, don't you?"

"Punishment."

"Yes."

***

The drive home is a blur. We're greeted at the door by Griffin and Guinness, the latter of which already has a leash clutched in his mouth. Patrick instructs me to take them for a ten minute walk while he sets things up for what's to come. His deliberate ambiguity sets me on edge, anticipation building within me.

Although I should be used to it, walking with the butt plug only serves to excite me beyond reason. As I become more hyperaware of the plug, I realize it's been inside of me for a little over three hours. His cum is still surrounding it, making it unbearably slippery and constantly on the verge of slipping out unless I'm vigilant. The night so far has been a constant stream of sensations and emotions; my earth-crashing orgasm as he fucked my ass, going deep inside my head during the shower that followed, my anxiety about seeing Gil, Vanessa, and Marc again, my defiance...and now, facing my punishment.

In truth, I'm feeling a little fragile and more than a little tired, but I know if we were to lighten or skip the punishment tonight, that it would set a precedent for our days to come. I agreed to submit to him for the weekend, and while he stayed within the boundaries of my limits, and I still defied him. I know, once my punishment is over, the slate will be clean between us and we can move on.

I also know that I've fantasized about being punished for years now, not by my own hands through orders on a telephone, but to truly be at the mercy of another; someone whom I trust to keep me safe, but will also push me to take the pain and humiliation punishment may bring. I look at the time on my phone and see he expects me in two minutes. With renewed excitement, I drag the dogs home, prematurely ending their pissing war.

Walking into the house, I unhook the dogs and hang their leashes on a hook by the door. Patrick calls to me from the kitchen, and after removing my sandals, I walk through the living room, now lit only by a few pillar candles. As I pass through the archway of the sliding French door that divides the living and dining room, I shiver as I notice soft, brown leather straps with attached O-rings hanging from each corner. On the table are coils of hemp rope....and the flogger.

Inside the kitchen, Patrick is pouring hot water into a teapot, then sets it aside to steep. I stand in the doorway and watch his easy and calm movements. His height and presence fill the kitchen and I suddenly feel very small. My breath intakes sharply as a shudder courses through my body. In three strides he's enveloping me into a snug embrace.

"Are you ok, sweetheart?"

"Yes. I'm fine. Really. It's just that so much has happened tonight already..."

He pulls his head back a little and looks down on me, studying my face. "I'm going to give you a choice Corrine...punishment tonight or tomorrow? The punishment will be the same regardless, no penalties for waiting until the morning."

"No. Not tomorrow. Please punish me tonight, Sir."

He studies me for a moment, then gives a little nod. "Ok, I agree... but there's a few things we need to discuss first, not just for tonight but your future, punishments as well."

That wakes me up a little bit...that punishment will be a regular part of our relationship dictated by my compliance and obedience, or lack thereof.

"You need to assure me that you'll use your safeword if it gets to be too much. The punishments I chose will generally match the infraction. They will not push any of your hard limits or cause you any lasting pain or visible marks. With that in mind, you should know that if you do safeword, it only postpones your punishment. This means that if I plan on flogging you for ten minutes, which is my intention for tonight, and we only get through two....we will have eight more minutes to go at a later time. Whether it's completed all at once or it takes eight days we WILL complete your punishments as planned. Until we do finish a punishment, there will be no orgasms for you. Do you understand?"

As excited as I'm getting, I eagerly nod and assure him with a "Yes, Sir!"

He chuckles briefly at my enthusiasm before leading me into the dining room. In one swift motion my dress is pulled up and off my body and tossed to the other side of the table, leaving me standing in my bikini panties. Scanning my body, he almost appears surprised to see them, before they too are removed and tossed next to my dress.

Soon, he's all business. Rope is weaved around my right arm, from just above my elbow down to my wrist. The pattern is intricate and beautiful. The pressure is evenly distributed with no actual tension on any one area. It's mesmerizing to watch, his actions so precise and assured. He repeats the same pattern on my left arm. I notice a small loop of rope, nestled against the tops of each wrist, just as he attaches a carabiner to each.

He walks me over to the French doorway, and quickly attaches each carabiner to a corresponding O-ring so that my arms are outstretched and spread above my head. I look up, trying to see how the leather straps are attached.

"There are hooks that the leather slips into, just above the moulding, not visible from the ground. No worries though, they're very secure. You won't do any damage when you pull on them." I notice he says "when", and not "if".

Two leather cuffs that I had not noticed, also attached to brown leather straps are hooked into the base of the doorway on either side. Again, I can't quite see the hardware that the leather is attached to, but I can feel their strength as my ankles are buckled into the cuffs, and the adjustable leather straps are tightened until my legs are spread wide but my feet still remain flat on the ground. I can feel my wet pussy lips open from the stretch, and cool air kiss my sensitive hole.

Secured as I am, I'm surprised by my own body's reaction. No panic, no rebellion; just pure and stark desire crash through me. My hips begin to rock as my ass clenches on the plug. My nipples are instantly hard; rosy peaks aching for his touch.

Facing the living room, the light of the candles soothes my frayed nerves. My breathing has become slow and even by the time Patrick approaches me from behind. His warm body briefly comes into contact with mine, and I can feel he's removed his shirt. The soft hairs on his chest tickle my back as his breath caresses my neck. Just as soon as I begin to revel in our contact, he pulls away and I feel the flogger's heavy tendrils come to rest on my right shoulder. I look over at them; the strands are at least one-quarter inch thick, with each one capped by a single knot. Inhaling deeply, I take in the smell of new leather.

The straps of leather slowly are pulled up and over my shoulder, leaving a trail of sensitized skin in their wake. He repeats the same motion over my left shoulder, letting the heavy weight of them slip slowly behind me and down my upper back. I hear him take another step or two back, then feel a very light sting cross my upper back, just below my shoulders. My first kiss with the flogger surprises me but I lean back just a little, seeking to feel it again. It's then that he begins to alternate back and forth, left to right along my upper back and underarms until the skin is so hot and sensitive that each stroke begins to feel like hot oil being sprayed on me.

I can't help myself; I start to bounce a little on my toes, rising up with each stinging slap.

"Stay down, slut." His abrupt command causes my heels to crash solidly to the floor even before my mind takes in what he's said.

A crisscross pattern begins to evolve, both in range and strength. The tendrils are now slapping across and down my back from one shoulder to the opposite hip, then back up to the other shoulder and down again to the other hip. Over and over again they come down; my mouth is open in a permanent "Oh" but no sound comes out. All I can feel is pain, yet as the pain is absorbed deep into my skin, I feel a ball of pressure building inside of me, expanding and pushing back at the pain until they are one and the same.

My mind is at war as the words 'stop' and 'harder' battle each other to escape my mouth. I will myself to stay quiet. At no time do I consider saying "yellow" or "red".

Lower even still; the sting of the flogger is now centered on my ass in rapid succession. On this sensitive skin, I can feel each knot as it lands with a thud against the soft and pliant flesh. Occasionally, the ends land perfectly against the base of the plug and the sound of the contact varies just slightly as leather hits rubber.

It takes all of my strength to keep my feet flat on the floor. I'm still bouncing just slightly with each strike. My ass is on fire and my cunt is swollen and coated in juices that are now sliding down my inner thighs. Tears form in the corners of my eyes, but not from the pain. I feel an incredible cathartic release building inside of me and the tears are just the beginning.

I cry out when the flogging stops and Patrick's hot breath against my burning ass cheeks. His lips makes contact with one cheek, and I let out an agonized moan as he uses his wet tongue on the burning flesh over and over again until both cheeks are damp with his saliva. I hold my breath as I next feel him gently blowing cool air against my tortured ass. With a quick lick around the base of the plug, he ducks under my outstretched arm and is now in front of me.

The expression on his face is almost indescribable; lust, power, need, love. It's all there. His chest is heaving with his own exertion and excitement; his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. 

"Three minutes to go, love. Can you do this?"

I nod rapidly, to consumed by pain and lust to speak.

"Words!! I need words, Corrine."

"Y-yes Sir!! Please don't stop." I arch my body towards him, relying on my restraints to hold me up. "God I love you woman..."

My eyes stay trained on the flogger; his wrist begins a pattern of upwards and downwards motions as the flogger begins a beautiful dance resembling the sign for infinity just in front of me. He steps closer and the first contact of heavy fronds and knots smack against the pale outer flesh of my left breast before quickly coming down on the right. Reflexively, I suck in my breath in an attempt to pull my breasts away from their torment, but before he can reprimand me I grit my teeth and push myself outwards once more.

The pressure inside of me begins to build once more. It's not quite the same pressure as the approach of an orgasm; it's almost more powerful than that. Flashes of sting and burn erupt on my breasts and nipples, and with each strike I'm crying out an anguished "ah". Tears are now steadily streaking down the sides of my face, the salt water kissing my dry lips.

The flogger continues its pattern lower and lower, until the skin of my soft belly becomes streaked in red. It's not quite as painful as when he was flogging my breasts, but my breathing becomes more and more irregular as I anticipate where he will be striking next. If he continues the same crashing rhythm and intensity on my pussy and thighs, I fear I may pass out.

Instead, I feel him pull the flogger away as he steps back and takes me in. We're both breathing erratically, but I can see he is still in full control of himself. He steps forward and uses his feet to nudge mine even wider, then leans down and adjusts the straps to remove the slack. My inner thighs are stretched uncomfortably, but not unreasonably, and a burn quickly begins to build in my muscles. More of my weight is now being carried by my arms, but I find that the even distribution of the rope along my arms has prevented any loss of circulation.

Patrick cups my pussy and groans at the wetness he finds. The walls are swollen and my pussy lips and clit are engorged. My juices are coating the entirety of my cunt, with rivulets dripping down my inner thighs. A few drops are scattered on the floor below me. Reaching farther back, he grips the base of the butt plug and for a moment I fear he's going to remove it right here and now, but instead he begins to twist and pull on it in an agonizingly slow rhythm until every nerve in my body begins to scream for release. This makes him smile.

He pulls back once more, but still standing close, begins to flick his wrist upwards gently, causing the fronds of the flogger to hit my pussy with a dull thud, but nothing that conjures any pain. I arch outwards, inviting increased contact, and I see a slight smile play across his face before the strength and intensity of his assault begins to increase. Again a pattern of upward strikes begins to develop.

Heat begins to radiate from my exposed and tender flesh, but there is no true sting or pain and I surprise us both when I scream out, "MAKE IT HURT! PLEASE SIR!!"

Without missing a beat, he stands back, raises his arm above his head and strikes down with the flogger so that the knotted ends make sharp contact directly on my pink and swollen tissue. I scream out again in pain and pleasure and feel three more strikes in rapid succession rain down on me until I feel my knees buckle and hear the flogger crash to the floor.

Patrick drops to his knees in front of me and uses his strong hands to support my hips until my feet find purchase with the ground again. As soon as they do his mouth is upon my battered pussy, his fingers pulling the lips apart giving his tongue access to my swollen folds and clit.

All I can do is mutter "oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck" over and over again as he takes my clit between his lips and teeth, clamps down, and begins sucking as two fingers from one hand penetrate my wet lips and begin to fuck me hard and fast. Wet, smacking sounds fill the room, mingling with my incoherent gasps until lights flash in my brain and my body explodes in a series of climaxes that have me jerking in my bonds. My tears transform into pure elation as my mind and body dance together in cathartic release.




Rock and Water Ch. 07



Hanging from the leather straps, I watch as if in a dream as Patrick roughly pushes his jeans and boxers down below his hips, licks his palm until its wet and begins to jerk himself off so quickly that his hand is a blur. The head of his cock is almost purple and pre-cum is steadily flowing from the slit. In less than thirty seconds cum begins to fly out from his cock in powerful spurts, landing on my belly, pussy and thighs before slowly dripping down my body in thick rivulets.

He stands mesmerized in front of me, cock still in hand, watching the path of his cum trace down my legs and puddle on the floor next to my juices. He discards his jeans and boxers behind him, unlatches my ankle cuffs, helps me adjust my stance, then takes me into his arms. My skin is still alive with a lingering burn from the flogger, but the contact feels wonderful. His mouth comes down on mine and we kiss with passion and love.

Moving from my lips, he kisses some tears off of my face before reaching up and unhooking one carabiner. Before he releases the other, he ensures that his arm is snug around my waist. My head swims a little as he releases my other arm and walks me over to a dining room chair. The wood feels cool against my still smoldering ass cheeks, but mostly it feels good to be sitting. He quickly removes the rope bindings from my arms and inspects my skin closely for discoloration other than the expected red marks from the ropes.

He tells me to wait there before walking naked into the kitchen and returning quickly with the teapot and two mugs. As he pours, an herbal blend of mint and chamomile infuse my senses. He sits down and pulls in close to me.

Cupping my cheek in his palm, he gives me a warm smile. "How are you, love?"

I give him a shy smile back. "I think I'm good. Yes...I'm good."

"You surprised me a little over there. I thought I knew what you could take; but you wanted more."

My heart tightens a little and my face flushes. Looking down I almost whisper, "I hope....I hope that was ok." Slowly I look up at him. "Was that wrong of me....to ask to be hurt more?"

"Absolutely not, sweetheart!" He looks truly shocked that I would even ask. "It was amazing. You truly blew my mind a little. Watching you lose yourself to the pain...it was an amazing transformation to watch; such a privilege to be the one to give it to you. Thank you...truly."

I close my eyes and feel a single tear slide down my face, only to be caught by the back of Patrick's finger as he gently wipes it from my cheek. This time though, the tear is from the overwhelming love and connection that I feel for him; for the safety and sense of home that is developing between us.

"Ok sweetheart, first a shower, then off to bed."

I can only nod in response.

Patrick offers privacy if I would like it, to remove the plug that has been present in my ass for hours now. Although admittedly I feel some shame and anxiety about what may come out of me along with his cum, I decide to let go of my inhibitions and allow him to remove the plug while we are in the shower together. I can tell this pleases him and I know I made the right decision, even though I know he would support me either way.

As we step into the spray of water, instead of the sting and hurt I was anticipating the warm water feels soothing. Using a soapy lather, Patrick lubricates around my asshole and begins to gently turn the plug side to side a little, then in and out until in one smooth move he removes it completely. I can feel his warm, thick seed move down my leg to be quickly washed away by the warm water. Relief floods me when I see that it's only his white cum that is swirling down the drain.

"It would have been okay otherwise too, sweetheart; I hope you know that." It's obvious he sensed my concern.

"Yes. I do know. Thank you." In my mind, I think back to my shyness of peeing in front of him not too long ago.

Once again on this evening, I find myself being bathed by Patrick. I can't believe it's only been one night when so much has already passed between us and we still have the weekend to go. This shower is a little quicker, and in no time we're out and drying off.

I look at my reflection as he towels me off. Despite the extensive flogging, my skin has faded already to a light pink, with just a few dark small slashes of red marking my skin. I love seeing them; a tinge of pride hums through me, and I wish that there were more. I can see now that he was careful to avoid my shoulders, arms and legs so that even in my summer clothes the marks will be discreet.

He uses a gentle, soothing lotion over my body before we snuggle into bed. I feel myself drifting as he's telling me about the rest of our plans for the weekend...something about a motorcycle ride and some live music in a park on Sunday with Luka, his "little brother". The last thing I remember before fading to black is a light kiss on my forehead and his whispers of love.



Rock and Water Ch. 08



My promise for shorter breaks between chapters seems to have not quite come to pass. I truly appreciate your support and patience! Things get a little deeper between Corrine and Patrick this chapter...hope you enjoy! Many thanks to FA_JF for her ongoing support and advice!

*****

Monday arrives all too soon. Saturday was spent on the motorcycle exploring back roads in the gorge. We checked in on his cabin while out there, enjoying a fast and desperate fuck after having been pressed together on his bike for so many hours, the close contact and vibrations driving us both mad. That evening, back at his home, I soaked in bath salts in the tub; a welcomed relief after the flogging the night before and being on the back of his bike all day. 

Most of Sunday was spent with his "Little Brother" Luka, who I'd heard so much about over the past weeks. For ten years old, it was clear that his rough upbringing had toughened him, and made him seem older than his years. It was only after we took him to see the new X-men movie and ice cream afterwards that I could see him loosen up a little and show his goofy side. He was guarded with me at first, but by the end of the day he'd warmed up a bit, and was curious about my work at the radio station. We made a plan to go to the studio on his next Sunday with Patrick. 

It's Monday now, and as planned, we head to the gym together to work out and confront Kym for her hostility towards me. From the moment we walk in the door, our movements are followed by Kym. As it was before, her expression is bleak, with a tinge of sadness. It's clear she tries to stay focused on the client she is training, but when the session is over she remains in the weight room, tracking our movements from the far wall.

Although I trust Patrick's assertion that they were never more than 'friends with benefits', it's obvious that what happened between them was much more to her. My feelings about Kym vacillate between being pissed off and sympathetic.

I head over to the other side of the gym to do some stretches on the mats. Just as I settle into my first one, I watch with no surprise as Kym sheds her loose gym top and walks towards Patrick in her sports bra and tight gym shorts. Her young, tight body catches the attention of both men and woman as she passes. My breath catches as she moves to embrace Patrick in a hug. He looks caught off guard, but accepts the hug briefly before pulling away. She keeps her back towards me, but shortly after they start talking I see him gesture towards me so Kym is forced to turn around and acknowledge my presence.

She looks miserable as they walk in my direction, but turns and flashes Patrick flirty smiles along the way. I hadn't expected this confrontation to occur in the middle of the gym, and feel unprepared to say to her what I'd been rehearsing all morning. As soon as they reach me, Patrick breaks away from her to stand by my side, gently laying his hand on my shoulder.

"Kym, I'd like you to meet Corrine, my girlfriend. Corrine, this is Kym." His demeanor is warm, albeit a little guarded.

Kym's lips initially become a thin line as her whole body tenses, but then as if on stage she quickly recovers her composure.

"Corrine, is it? You look familiar...have you been here before?" She's laying the sweetness on thick.

I take a deep sigh and decide I'm not going to play her game.

"Yes, Kym... We both know I have. Listen, I have no issues with the fact that you and Patrick hooked up. What I'm not okay is you trying to intimidate me every time I walk in the gym."

Briefly she'd looks at a loss for words, but recovers quickly. Cocking her head with a smile, she exclaims, "Oh right! You do look familiar... Didn't I see you last week in the water aerobics class for our, uh... our older members?"

My eyes widen, and I can't hold back a gasp of laughter as I shake my head. This girl is priceless.

Patrick stands tall and responds for me. "Kym, what the hell? Corrine's been coming to this gym longer than I have, and you know that. I don't know why you seem hell bent on staring her down every time she comes in, but it needs to stop. Now."

"I have no idea what she's talking about. Honestly, Patrick... I don't know why she'd say such things." Kym is doing her best to look incredulous and hurt at the same time.

Patrick pauses, and looks between the two of us. Is it possible he's questioning whether my accusations hold any merit? For a moment, I wonder.

"Kym, Corrine has no reason to make any of this up. In fact, she did her best to hide it from me for a few weeks. Just tell me why you're being such a bitch..." his voice softens a little before he adds, "when I know that's not who you are."

Kym's righteous demeanor begins to crumble in front of us. "Patrick, I just don't understand... I know you wanted me. The night of my show...after the show...it was incredible. We had such a connection." Her voice begins to crack as she continues. "I gave you space! I gave you time!" Her hands ball into tight fists against her side as small tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes.

As manipulative as she's been, her breakdown feels pretty sincere. I move to step away to let them talk in private, but Patrick's hand tightens on my shoulder.

Patrick's words are calm, but firm. "I'm not going to lie to you or Corrine that our night together wasn't a good time, it was, but that's all it was Kym...just a night; one in many for me during those days."

Kym flinches and I do too, until Patrick continues, sincerity in his voice. "Please Kym, you have to understand. I did my best to be honest with you where I was in my life at that time. I wasn't looking for a relationship. If I had any idea you had feelings for me, I never would have been with you."

She looks crestfallen, but nods a little as she looks down at the floor. "I know," she says, "you did...I just thought...maybe if I played it cool you'd eventually want me." She looks up with red eyes at him, then me. "Fuck! I'm such an idiot." She practically stomps her feet on the ground. "Why does this keep happening to me?"

I finally find my voice, and ask softly, "Kym, how old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

I think back to myself at twenty-three. "At your age I was convinced every guy was 'the one'. Sex and attraction are incredibly powerful, but it's also easy to lose yourself. You should never have to change who you are, or deny what you need from a relationship...sadly I learned that lesson a bit later in life."

Kym is still looking at the floor but once again nods. With a deep sigh, she says, "I hear you...I know. My friends tell me that all the time."

She lifts her head and looks at me evenly. "Sorry for being such a bitch. I just...I just don't get it. I mean, why would he want you when you're..." She trails off and stops herself before going any further. "Shit. I better just go."

With that, she walks away and quickly pushes through a door for employees only. Patrick and I are left standing there, stunned.

He starts to laugh. "What the hell was she talking about? Why wouldn't I want you?"

I look at him, eyes wide open. "You really don't know what she was going to say?"

"No", he says, shaking his head.

I love that he doesn't, and with a smile take his hand. "No matter...but you just earned yourself a blowjob."

Overall, this weekend has shown us that in submitting to him fully, I never once lost my sense of self, or self-worth. Instead I felt valued and cherished, while he seemed greatly satisfied by each and every act of trust I bestowed on him.

***

A few more weeks pass. Trips to the gym have been stress-free. While Kym isn't overly friendly, she no longer seems fixated on the two of us, and most of the time ignores us both. Regardless, it's summer and we've spent less time in the gym and more time on our bikes, or hiking local trails with the dogs.

Although no longer daily, Addie and I continue to speak on the telephone and Skype frequently. She's struggled with Frank over spending time with his new girlfriend, and I brace myself for resistance when I ask how she would feel if I invited Patrick along to London when I come to visit her later in the month. I've yet to ask him, waiting to see her reaction, and am pleasantly surprised when she appears okay with it. I assure her that we'll still have plenty of alone time. It's clear that Addie holds no illusions for Frank and I reuniting, but this is all still so new for her.

When I do ask Patrick to join me in London, he grabs me tight and gives a resounding "Fuck, yeah!", then proceeds to interrogate me about Addie for the rest of the evening. He's been to London a few times before to visit some ex-pat friends from his river rafting days. They live just outside of Bedfordshire, a bit over an hour outside of London, and we plan to add on a few days at the end of the trip to stay with them.

The growing trust and comfort in our relationship has allowed for an intimacy I've never known. Somehow over time, my submission towards him has become less of a role, and more just a way of being. In giving him control, not just over my body but also more and more frequently in our everyday life, I've felt calmer and more centered than I ever have.

My concerns about deepening my submission to Patrick, both in and out of the bedroom, have eased as I've come to realize he's not arbitrary in his commands, or exertion of control. Little by little I've let go of my constant vigilance. I slip more easily than I thought I would into a more deferent mindset, surprised that not once do I feel condescended to or put out by his decisions. In fact, I find it quite freeing to let go of all of the choices I usually have to make in a given day, from the clothes I wear to our plans for the day.

The trust I feel when I give my body over to him has only strengthened too, after twice now using my safeword "yellow". The first time involved the most complex Shibari he had yet to undertake; a beautiful but severely confining array of knots that had me lying on the bed on my belly with my thighs open, knees bent, and arms crossed behind my back so that each hand held the alternate wrist. I'd felt myself sinking deeper into an almost meditative space, comfortable and divinely blissful, when he started to braid rope into my hair.

He'd been checking in with me throughout the evening, but when he pulled the rope binding my hair back and began to secure it to rope that was crisscrossing my back I began to feel anxious. For a moment I kept quiet and took deep breaths, but quickly I felt myself sinking into a panic attack.

Before I am even aware of my actions, I quietly, but clearly said, "yellow".

With a knife that had been lying close at hand on the bedside table, he quickly cut the rope between my braid and back, causing my head to drop to the bed. In a flash he was on his knees and at eye level with me, his hand cupping my face. Already my breath and comfort had returned, and despite reassuring him that I was good to continue, he chose to remove the rope altogether. Sensing my disappointment, he assured me we'd try it again, this time without head restraint.

We spent the evening exploring reasons why head restraint triggered panic in me, when it never had when his hand was tight in my hair. Whether it was the position, or the extreme nature of the restraint, I could never voice a clear reason for my panic. Despite my assertion that it wouldn't happen again, my lack of insight for the cause of my reaction did not sit well with Patrick. Now that I knew how quickly I would be released If need be, I pleaded to try it again. He nodded, but I could tell from the look in his eyes that it would be a while before he'd want to pursue it. It was obvious the experience had spooked him.

The second time I said "yellow" was when he'd covered by breasts, torso, cunt lips, and inner thighs with clothespins. You'd think with all of those pegs pinching my flesh, I'd have called out "red" before then, but the intense pain had me riding a wave of endorphins that caused pleasure to pulse through my body, and my mind to float in the clouds . The wave crashed, but not in a good way, when he clamped clothespins on each of my pinky toes. It felt like two elephants had started tap-dancing on them, and I screamed "yellow" so loud the dogs were barking outside his bedroom door.

Once again, Patrick acted quickly but calmly and removed the two offending clothespins. I smiled gratefully up to him, my eyes wet with tears. His plan from the beginning had been to remove the pegs as I orgasmed, and the thought of him removing them without that bliss sounded like a nightmare waiting to happen. I urged him in broken words to continue, and before I know it the slim vibrator that had been resting dormant in my ass buzzed to life, while his Hitachi wand was pressed against my cunt lips and clit.

I figured he'd want to make me come quickly, but instead once he saw me writhing in pain and pleasure below him he took his sweet time taking me to the edge and back again, over and over until a sheen of sweat covered my body and moisture flooded between my legs.

When finally he allowed me to come, he left the wand between my legs and then two by two quickly removed the pegs from my body. Fresh screams and tears wracked my body as pain and pleasure twisted in my head for dominance until it didn't matter which one took control. Once they were all removed, I collapsed onto my back and continued a long, cathartic cry as he gently soothed my fiery skin.

Once my tears had subsided, I turned towards him with wide eyes. I could see him scrutinize me, trying to discern if I was okay. A look of relief flooded over him when with a shy smile I'd asked him to promise to do that again one day...soon.

***

Pete and Patrick have torn apart my kitchen, leaving me without a fridge or stove. My camp stove and a cooler have been good temporary substitutions. They've worked together before, and seem to get on well with each other except for their taste in music, which amuses me to no end. Whereas Pete would prefer listening to classical all day, Patrick needs a little more energy in his music to keep him going.

I've remained adamant about keeping our relationship private from Pete, wanting to keep our personal and professional relationships separate from each other. Patrick has been less than thrilled with this arrangement, obviously feeling frustrated by his lack of say in the matter. While he has no interest in sharing the D/s nature of our relationship, he doesn't see the harm in Pete knowing that we're dating. Although I feel more secure than ever with him, I still prefer that Pete not worry about whether his job will go south if our relationship does. I know this doesn't make sense since the two work independent from each other, but it's just a feeling I have.

Patrick has acquiesced, grudgingly, but I've noticed that as soon as Pete leaves in the late afternoons, he is quick to get his dom on, and more often than not I'm naked within five minutes and in one compromising position or another. This evening is no different, and once Pete is gone I find myself naked, kneeling on a cushion with my legs spread and my hands clasped behind my back grasping the opposing forearms as Patrick cooks a stir fry in my electric wok.

Despite my current state, we're having an amicable conversation when all of a sudden Patrick falls silent mid-sentence, mouth slack and breath caught.

"What?" I utter, when from behind me I hear footsteps. My heart begins to slam in my chest.

"Uh...um...sorry," says an obviously mortified Pete. "I, um, forgot my phone. I would have called, except... Oh, shit... I didn't have my phone."

I don't turn around, for obvious reasons, but slowly move my arms around to cover my breasts, and close my knees together. 

"It's okay, Pete," I barely whisper, my throat suddenly incredibly dry.

"It's... just past you on my work table." He says gruffly. In my peripheral vision I see him walk quickly past me, grab his phone, and hightail it past me once again.

With a quite mumble, Pete says goodnight once again and hightails it out of the kitchen.

Moments later the side door slams shut.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!!" I shout, bolting up from the cushion and towards my bedroom, but Patrick moves faster and is quickly in front of me, blocking my exit from the kitchen. Sounds of the stir-fry sizzle in the background. 

He places his hands on my arms firmly, holding me at a distance as he looks down on me. My eyes are wide and my chest heaving; a rush of embarrassment, anger, and panic surges through me. He's breathing hard too as the two of us stand there, our wills clashing.

"Back on your knees, Corrine; I didn't say you could get up." His tone is firm, and a bit harder than I'm used to from him.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Move, Patrick. I want to get dressed. I'm not up for this anymore tonight."

Patrick removes his hands from my shoulders, holding his palms up for a moment. He doesn't move from the doorway, though, and continues to look down on me, a mix of question and challenge in his eyes.

"You're not up for what tonight?" 

"This..." I gesture wildly to the cushion on the floor, then wave my hand in front of my naked body. "...this game, this role-playing. Fuck it!" With each word, I feel my chest clench. I don't mean them, what's between us has been anything but a game, but I can't seem to rein in my own outburst. I feel flustered and out of control.

Standing there with my hands on my hips, breathing rapidly and ready for him to get angry and lash out at me for my harsh words, I watch, instead, as he composes himself. It's subtle, but I see a resolute calm take over, I see his jaw relax as the tension around his eyes softens. 

"Do not move," is all he says as he walks past me. My back to him, I can hear him working on the stir-fry before I hear the sound of the Wok being turned off. We both know that what I chose to do in this moment, whether to stay where I am or run for the bedroom, will decide not only the fate of the evening, but potentially the direction of our relationship.

I stay. 

"Return to the cushion and resume kneeling." His voice is vacant, without emotion. This scares me more than his anger.

I surprise myself by how quickly I trot back to the cushion and resume my position on my knees, hands locked behind my back, grasping my forearms tightly. I'm desperate for some sign of approval for my compliance, for any sign of affection from him. Instead, I watch as he dishes up one plate of food for himself, grabs a beer from the cooler, and walks over to the table.

Normally by now, I would have been invited off the cushion, dished up our plates side by side, then sit in our usual seats at the table, talking about our days. Although I may be naked and he clothed, the dynamic tended to be pretty laid back. Instead, I watch from my cushion as he takes a seat at the table and opens his beer.

I'm comforted that instead of taking his usual seat, which would have put his back to me, he picked a chair that faces me. His eyes pass over me for the first time, impassive, as he sets his plate down and begins eating. I can't stand the silence, the not knowing what he's thinking.

"Patrick, I..."

"Quiet."

This shuts me down in a second.

While his tone is sharp, his eyes are now gleaming. It's clear that my obedience has pleased him, and I can see the wheels turning behind his fiery eyes. Something about that look just makes me melt inside, and creates quick changes to my body and psyche. My nipples and areolas quickly constrict, and my blood runs hot as it courses through my veins. My focus is solely on him as all else drifts away.

My excitement is obvious to Patrick, and as if to reinforce the current disparity in our positions, he casually begins to eat. For some reason this excites me even more and it's taking all of my will to keep my knees spread. My cunt and ass begin a rhythmic clenching that both drives me on and frustrates me. I can feel droplets of fluids slide over my labia, onto my perineum. Keeping me on the floor as he eats our dinner, seemingly indifferent to my needs, drops me into that lovely focused headspace, where all I want to do is to please and serve him.




Rock and Water Ch. 08



Very calmly, he begins speaking.

"It would seem we have some things to talk about, some things to clarify."

I open my mouth to speak, but he cut's me off before I can.

"Before you say anything, I have some instructions for you." He pauses and a slight smile forms in the corner of his mouth.

"As we talk, I want you to touch yourself. Play with your cunt...your clit...your tits. Keep yourself on edge, but do not allow yourself to come. Begin now."

He doesn't have to ask twice; immediately my hands let go from behind my back, and before the pins and needles have time to hit after having been in position for so long, one hand begins to cup and squeeze one breast as the other dives down to my wet cunt and immediately drives two fingers in deep, down to the last knuckle. My palm begins a steady massage over my engorged and exposed clit as my hips begin a rhythmic sway. Heat and pressure begin to build rapidly within my core.

"I'm going to ask you some questions now, and I don't want anything from you except a direct reply to the question I've asked. When I'm satisfied with your answer, I'll move to the next one." He pauses to take bite of his food before continuing. "Answer me now to let me know that you understand. Address me as Sir, or Master, for the rest of the evening, or risk a significant punishment."

My eyes widen and my hands stop for a brief moment. We've never brought up the word, or concept of "Master" before, and the fact that he has now only stresses that tonight's conversation is going to be pivotal for our future. Hearing the word slip so easily from his mouth makes me question how long he's wanted this, which sends a jolt of both apprehension and pleasure to rush through my body, in a way I would never have expected. Whereas calling him 'Sir' is an accepted, societal expression of respect, the moniker 'Master' leaves no room for misinterpretation that it's anything less than subservience and ownership.

"Yes, Sir," I humbly reply in a whisper. His eyes study me intently, accepting that I have chosen to continue calling him 'Sir' but I see challenge in them too. He wants more from me, when I thought I've given him everything.

"Louder, slut," he commands.

"Yes Sir!" I shout out just as I pinch my nipple with a little twist.

"Keep those fingers going; stuff a third finger into that wet hole. Put on a show for me." He is clearly enjoying the show, as his eyes shift slowly from my breasts, to between my legs, and back again.

I let out a grown as my third finger joins the first two, and my body begins to hump itself against my palm. I can feel the telltale tingles begin to cascade through my nerves and focus in my pelvis, alerting me to my impending orgasm. By forcing my body to cease its movements and focus on my breathing, my desires ebbs just enough to prevent me from crashing over the crest.

Patrick pushes his half eaten plate to the side, finishes off his beer, then leans forward with his elbows on the table, one hand enclosed around the fist of the other, except for his thumb that is rubbing back and forth across his plump bottom lip as he watches my slutty show, just for him.

He doesn't say a word for the longest time, and I edge three more times as my cunt juices begin to flow freely, soaking the cushion below me. The flesh of my breasts is mottled red from my squeezing and pinching of the tender mounds, my nipples hard and hot.

His voice is barely a whisper, but I hear him murmur, "You are the hottest, dirtiest little slut that I could have ever dreamed of. Those three holes are mine, Corrine. You cunt is mine. Your mouth is mine. And that sweet, tight little ass is mine." I know the words should upset or shame me, but instead I let out a choked gasp as they feed me instead.

He shakes his head a little, reaches under the table to adjust his cock within the confines of his shorts, and once again looks all business.

"Corrine...while I know you didn't mean our relationship as a whole, tonight you mentioned that what we're doing here, what happens when you submit to me, is just a game, or a role you're playing. Is that really how you feel, because I'm damn sure not playing any games here?"

"No Patr..., No Sir!" I practically groan as I shout out my answer. I need him to know that's not how I feel, but I'm trying to follow his rule of not saying more than he asks.

"Then I can only assume you were trying to hurt me when you implied it did. I understand you were upset by Pete's discovery, but it's done, and I think you'll be surprised by how come tomorrow he won't give a damn about it. We're all adults here; everyone has their kinks. I'm sure he has his own and knows damn well how to be discrete."

I take a deep breath, and nod my understanding, but feel like I need to voice a lingering thought before we can move on. I pull my hands away, and place them on my thighs. Looking into eyes, I express my concern.

"I'm sorry, Sir...for reacting the way that I did. I've never felt so exposed in my life, not only in the literal sense, but also my character. Submission has always been a very private affair for me, and having Pete see me like that was incredibly unnerving." I pause and take a deep breath. "While I wish I didn't say what I did, I also wish that you had been more sensitive towards my feelings."

Patrick bites his lower lip as he weighs his response, then nods.

"You're right, Corrine."

I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding as relief floods me.

He continues. "My fallback tends to be asserting my dominance, my authority, with each rebellion you present me with. Admittedly, I've worried if I didn't, some sort of precedence would be set, and the whole dynamic we've established would collapse. I see now, I need to look at each event individually, and determine within the best of my ability when it may be time to take a step back. I can see now that this was once such event."

My heart wells up with love for him. "Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me."

We both notice at the same time, that my hands, as if on their own volition, have moved back to touching myself. I blush at my inability to control myself, while a wicked smile crosses his face.

"I'll grant you the option I didn't give you before. Would you like to continue with my line of questions, or save it and just have a quiet night?"

"Please, I'd like to continue." My breathing is becoming a little shallow as my excitement crests again.

He gives a single nod. "Okay then, we'll continue. Edge yourself again. Sit up off the cushion enough to play with your ass too."

"Ugh..." escapes my mouth along with my breath. I'm afraid that even a fingertip on my tender, tight ring will send me crashing into bliss; but I comply.

Raising up off of my heels, I lean forward just enough to reach behind myself and with my third finger I begin to lightly caress my most sensitive hole. My other hand, three fingers stuffed inside my swollen cunt, resumes fucking and grinding against my mound. A quick swipe of my finger over my soaking perineum lubricates it thoroughly, and I press the tip into my asshole with ease. Electric shocks careen through my entire pelvis and gut as I begin to pant through my parted lips.

For a moment it's almost as if I'm outside of my body, watching down as I fuck myself with my own fingers on his command, lost to the pleasure it's bringing me. Both embarrassment and wanton pride flush through me for the lack dignity and composure I'm displaying. Who is this woman, who only years before was ensconced in a vanilla marriage?

I catch myself from coming, pulling back just as the tingles begin to take hold of me once more. I look to Patrick for his approval, and receive it in the form of a lustful, but loving grin from him.

"Next question, Corrine," he sits up higher in his seat. "Are you up for going deeper, for more experiences where I push you harder...perhaps go a little darker? Are you willing to submit to me in ways that demonstrate even more my dominance and control over you?"

His question floats through me and fills every corner of my mind. Without hesitation I know the answer. "Yes Sir. Please...please push me, take me...teach me. I want to feel consumed. I want to be owned by you."

We both are breathing hard, my last words are not lost on either of us. Like 'Master', the meaning of 'owned' is absolute. I want to give him everything I have, to expose myself to him and leave myself raw and vulnerable, yet know I'm safe and protected by the very same man.

He slowly stands, and with no rush to his movements walks over and stands above me. Unsure of where to look, my eyes stare straight forward, only to be met by the huge bulge straining against his shorts. I can smell him, through those shorts, and my mouth begins to water. I close my eyes as I take in the masculine smell of sweat and precum.

"If you want to be owned, then you will call me Master."

My thoughts spin as I nearly lose control of my barely reined in orgasm. Tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes as I plunge another finger into my sensitive ass. Once again, we're at a crossroads that once breached we can never return from again. Once I call him 'Master', all pretense is over, and I realize I want nothing more.

"Yes Master! Please Master...please..."

No longer able to control his hunger, Patrick's hands, in rapid-fire movements, tear at the button and zipper and quickly both the shorts and his boxers drop to his ankles. His cock stands out, angry and red, from the confinement; precum liberally drips from his slit. Without a word he grabs the back of my head, twisting the hair as his fingertips graze my scalp and pulls it back and down, effectively opening my mouth to him. With his other hand he guides the engorged and purple head deep into my mouth until it hits hard against the back of my throat, causing me to gag and choke for a moment until I recover and close my mouth snuggly around him.

As he fucks my mouth, a litany of words pours from him.

"If I'm going to own you, you'll have to give me your complete and total trust Corrine. You'll have to expose yourself to me...everything. No holding back. No hesitation. No shame. Safe words will always be a must. I insist. But one-hundred percent honesty and deference to me when I ask for it will go unquestioned. Do you understand?"

With obvious effort he pulls his cock from my wet and sloppy lips, using his hand to wipe my mouth and chin dry so I can speak.

"I...I think I do. I want it; I do...just...not 24/7." I know we've talked about this before, but it must be said before we go forward.

He takes in, and lets out a deep breath; consciously making the effort to slow his own thoughts down and explain his thoughts better. "Fuck 24/7. Trust me. I don't want that either. I promise. I'm not going to be unreasonable, but this will be a change for us. We are so close to it already. You've been such an exquisite submissive Corrine...we just need to break through some last barriers to get where we both want to go."

"Anything, Sir." I sit up taller on my knees and look him straight in the eyes for the first time since this all started.

"Anything, Master." As I say those words, a clear image comes to mind of what that barrier might be; of what it would take to truly make myself as vulnerable to him as I have ever been, but before I can say it myself, he beats me to it.

"Then tonight, my sweet submissive, your cunt is going to accept my fist."

With that, his cock plunges in my mouth once again. He fucks it with abandon as I gag and drool.

"Hands behind your back," he orders, and I quickly pull them from my cunt and ass and grasp then behind me. With those words he's effectively prevented any more pleasure for myself; my own need for orgasm denied. His other hand continues to control my head, bobbing it up and down over his increasingly swollen cock. Quickly he is coming in hard spasms into my mouth, as he lets out anguished moans and his seed drips down the back of my throat.

Patrick pulls out and immediately drops to his knees, pulling me into a tight embrace. I'm still swallowing and panting from my efforts, and he comforts me with words of love, along with caresses through my hair and down my back. Reaching onto the table for a napkin, he pulls back enough to lovingly wipe my mouth and face of drool and tears.

I look at Patrick and feel overwhelmed by the love I have for him, and I want to show him that I truly am his. With no uncertainty I feel completely at his mercy; I feel owned and with that a sense of belonging and acceptance of myself that I've never experienced before.

"Master," I say softly, feeling the word slip through my lips in reverence of him. His eyes burn into me and the look leaves no question that the reverence is quite mutual. He gently stands and tugs his boxers and shorts back up before pulling me up level with him. He zips his shorts, but leaves them unbuttoned which has me completely entranced by how sexy he looks.

He pulls a chair out from the table. "Here, sit..." He moves to the sink to fetch me some cold, filtered water first, then to the wok for a plate of food. I chug the water quickly, my thirst almost unquenchable. He refills my glass once more before sitting down.

"The night is young my sweet sub. Eat. I want you strong for me, because I'm going to take a lot from you tonight." He looks more relaxed, once again, and a sly smile lightens up his previously penetrating expression.

I just sit and stare at him for a moment. My mind is slowly wrapping around what lays ahead of us tonight. His fist. An act that I never believed I'd ever experience. One I've shamefully craved and kept secret, even to my online dom, Robert. I watch as his hand grasps his beer, and sharply intake my breath as I see the size of it. I look at each finger, each knuckle, the way his hand covers more of the bottle than not. My mouth drops open as my thighs press together involuntarily. My eyes shoot up to his in panic.

"Are...are you sure, Master? I'm having a hard time believing your fist will even fit." I blush a little, taking small sips from my water and trying to pretend this is the most normal conversation we could be having.

"You are snug, love, but no fear. It will happen, and you are going to feel me so deep inside you, baby. It may take a while, but I'll take my time and make sure you'll be as slick as you've ever been." With that his tongue darts out and moistens his lower lip. I nearly combust.

"Just picture it Corrine, because I can." He takes my hand and begins rubbing my palm with his thumb. "My cock is already so hard, thinking of you lying on your back, hips up on a pillow, legs spread so wide for me..."

I picture this vulnerable position too, and my face reddens as I imagine what it will look like from his vantage point between my legs.

"You cunt will be so ready for me, so ready to be filled by my fingers, fist...my arm."

I let out a moan as my juices begin to escape my pussy lips once more. Air from the fan kisses my wet cunt making me acutely aware of my need.

"Now, Please Master! Can we just go now? I can't wait any longer." I realize the word 'Master' is getting easier and easier.

"No." His words are firm, but an almost smug smile passes over his face. "Eat, use the bathroom, clean up a little. In fact, take a quick bath. It's been a long day already, and I want you fed, relaxed, and ready for me. When you're finished, place your lube and the Hitachi wand from my bag on the bedside table, and wait for me standing at the end of the bed."

It takes only a second for me to dig into the delicious, but cold, food. At this point, I don't care. I want to jump through these hoops and into bed as quickly as I can. We both finish our food in record time. His amused suggestion of ice cream is met by my silent glare, before he shoos me off for my bath while he takes the dogs out for a walk.

The bath is absolutely glorious, and I'm so thankful for the suggestion. Under water, I run my hand over my naked pussy lips, enjoying the soft, supple skin. My fingers just barely graze my already stimulated clit where it pokes past the confines of its hood and I let out a deep moan as the air escapes my lungs. Not wanting to take anything from Patrick, I quickly move my hand away and allow my lust to simmer.

I'm just stepping out of the bath as I hear the front door close. My heart begins to beat wildly as I dry myself, then put the towel aside, release my hair from its clip, and walk naked into the bedroom. I retrieve and place the lube and wand on the table, and just reach my place at foot of the bed just as he walks into the room.

He approaches me, leans down and gives me a gentle kiss with his soft lips, then steps into the bathroom himself. I hear him relieve his bladder, then turn on the shower. I sigh deeply, as I'm left alone with my thoughts a little longer.

My nervousness gradually quiets down as I wait for him. Only the sound of the shower and my slow breaths occupy my mind. The shower turns off, and almost in a trance, I track his movements as I hear him open the door and grab for a towel. I don't hear anything for a few moments, but then in my peripheral vision I see him walk out of the bathroom and towards me.

He's wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and nothing else. The ink on his body only adds to the strength that emanates from his presence. Each one tells a story of him, and I couldn't imagine anyone of them missing. He looks larger than life as he crosses the room, and it's all I can do to remain standing in place when all I want to do is run into the comfort of his arms.

His approach matches my own desperation, and in one fluid motion his arms are around me, lifting me up and on the bed, his body covering mine as his lips crash down to my own. The unfettered hunger in his kiss takes my breath away, as his body crushes mine into the bed. I feel helpless to his need, and can barely bridle my own as I kiss him back with an equal passion. The feel of his tongue against my own, the rasping sound of his breath and groans, and the heat of his skin against mine have my heart beating wildly and my body aching with primal need.

His lips pull away as he rolls off of me onto his side, pulling me with him so that we're facing each other. Patrick's eyes are an almost crystalline blue, and the warm smile on his face fills me with both heat and comfort.

"I'm very excited about this, Corrine. It's going to be amazing for both of us."

I can see in his eyes the truth of his words, but I've had a nagging voice in my head that keeps reminding me that this is something that I initially brought up, not him.

"Patrick...I have to ask." I pause to moisten my lips with my tongue. "Is this something you've done before?"

He nods his head slowly. "I have."

"So it is possible." I say this almost to myself; relief that at least one other woman was able to take his fist.

"Just one woman, or have there been others?"

He smiles at my blatant curiosity. "Just one."

I bite my lower lip, just a little. "Your wife?"

Patrick gives a little chuckle. "Yes, my wife."

I don't know why this comforts me, but it does. I want this to be special for both of us. While I'm glad he has experience doing it, I'm also relieved this isn't something he's done with many of his past lovers.

The feel of his fingertips lightly pressing me down once again into the bed turns my focus back to him, and to my body. As one hand caresses my hair away from my neck, his lips find my pulse and he begins with gentle licks, kisses, and nibbles that send chills and tingles throughout my body. Broad strokes of his tongue are then followed by an incredible pressure as his lips and mouth suck on the tender flesh. Faint groans begin to escape with my breath.




Rock and Water Ch. 08



His other hand begins a slow, tortuous path down my shoulders and sides, before rising up again once more to my shoulder. He continues this path, straying at times to touch my belly, back, and hips. My skin feels like it's on fire, while a pressure begins to build in my breasts and core causing me to arch upwards, seeking contact and relief.

"Sir...Master...touch me, please." I barely recognize my own voice, so wrought with need.

"Shhhh, sweetheart. Relax...go with it. Breathe." I look up at him. His eyes are closed as his head dips down once more; his tongue darts out, making contact with the tip of my left nipple. I try to slow my breathing, but am captivated as his wet tongue draws lazy circles around the almost painfully tight bud. Cool air breezes over the peak as he moves his attention to the neglected twin, again lavishing it with his wet and determined tongue before sucking it deeply into his mouth.

"Aaaahhhhhh," I moan as every nerve in my breast begins to transmit pure pleasure through my body and straight to my cunt where a wave of fluid begins to leak from my swollen lips. I try to turn and wrap my legs around him, only to be secured firmly to the bed with my hands held in his over my head, and his body straddling my hips. Without interruption though, his mouth continues sucking and biting my breasts and nipples until I'm gasping underneath him.

His hard cock is straining against the boxer briefs, moistness spread out over the fabric from his precum. He begins to grind his entrapped cock against my cunt and clit, allowing for a brief moment his own pleasure before moving to my side once more. Before I can mourn the loss of contact, his hands leave my wrists and one grasps my cunt, covering it entirely, squeezing and massaging my mound until my fluid is leaking between his fingers.

"This is MINE." His voice is hard, wracked with passion and possessiveness.

Fingertips begin to explore every fold, caressing, pinching, and finally inserting deep inside of me; first one, then two, quickly followed by three.

"Spread," he commands, and my legs part until the muscles and skin of my inner thighs are pulled tight and begin to prickle. I wonder if this is it, if he's going to keep adding fingers until he pushes his fist in, but instead he begins to alternate between two and three fingers, fucking me slowly, then quickly; twisting his wrist to ensure pressure and lubrication is spread both on the outside and inside of my swollen cunt walls and lips. The intensity and intimacy of this act alone is bringing me dangerously to the edge, and when he leans over and entraps my swollen clit between his teeth I scream out and buck my hips against him.

"Too much...too much," I scream, now trying to pull back and away, the sensations so acute my body is vibrating as every nerve and muscle are dancing under his skilled hands and mouth. Thankfully, he responds a little by releasing my clit from his teeth for a moment, before resuming his attention to the aching peak with his tongue. This I can handle a bit more, but wave after wave of pleasure continues to threaten to push me over the edge.

More pressure and sensation fill the void within me as I realize he has added a fourth finger, and is fucking me hard and deep with them all. My cunt walls feel as if they are squeezing in on him, and my breath catches in a moment of panic as I wonder how I can take anything more.

Patrick's mouth and tongue move slowly up my torso, his hands on either side of me, holding his body off of mine. I feel a broad stroke of his tongue between my breasts before his mouth finds mine again, my own taste and musky odor still on his lips and clinging tohis beard.

"Ahhh, fuck..., I could do this all night baby. You taste so very sweet and your body is just giving itself to me." His eyes shine down on me, and all I feel is pure love.

He looks down at his hand, still pumping four fingers rhythmically in and out of my wet hole.

"You're ready, baby. You're ready for me...for my hand, my arm. Your cunt is mine to take." His last words come out as steady and calm as the first, and I can see that despite his excitement he is totally under control.

Our eyes are locked on each other's, my breathing erratic, his deep and calm.

"Deep breaths, love. You need to calm yourself, just a little. I'm going to need you to breathe through the pain, through the stretching."

Somehow I begin to control my breathing again, although it does nothing to diminish my need.

"Ask for it Corrine. Ask for my fist."

"Master, take my cunt. Fill it. Own me." My breath now mirrors his, and an overwhelming sense of calm and peace take over. "Please, Sir...please put your fist in my cunt."

Up on his knees, Patrick grabs a thick, firm pillow and positions it under my hips, before reaching over me for the lube and the wand. I watch in a trance as he liberally squeezes lube over his right hand, and halfway down his forearm. He uses his other hand to spread the glistening lube over and between his fingers, then his hand, wrist and forearm. I can't believe how much he is using, but know I will appreciate it in just moments. A towel I had not noticed is lying beside him on the bed, and he uses it to wipe his left hand clean before picking up the wand and turning it on its lower setting.

"Keep your feet on the bed, knees up... legs spread. Keep your eyes on me, Corrine. Watch me. Trust me."

I feel the wand gently press against the folds of my cunt and press in. Gentle vibrations reach up inside of me until I can feel my bowels trembling. He runs the head of the wand slowly up and down over my spread cunt lips, my slick juices preventing any resistance; back and forth, over and over until he brings it up and over my mound and leaves it there. Even on low, the vibrations are powerful. My excitement has ratcheted up once more, but focusing on his eyes and breathing allow me to experience the pleasure without pushing for release. I allow the sensations to penetrate through me, and my whole being feels light, as if I could float off the bed.

Two, three, then four fingers resume their deep penetration of my wet hole. The lubricant, along with my own juices, is creating a stream of wet sounds to emanate from between my legs. Our eyes remain glued on each other as he pushes deeper, past his knuckles. Once again, along with in and out, his hand is gently twisting and probing, loosening my resistance with each stroke. The stretch is incredible, and it feels as if he is directly pushing against my pelvic bones from every direction. Pain vacillates with surges of pleasure as he takes his time to loosen and soften my body's resistance. Soon enough though, his efforts are rewarded with my own movements against his hand as my body opens to him. Taking that opportunity, I can just barely feel as his thumb tucks into his hand and with a series of slow pushes and twists of his wrist, I can feel the broad knuckle of his thumb pass through the tight passage and he is fully inside of me.

"Aaaauuugghhh," is all I can say as I feel his hand ball up into a hard and rounded fist inside of me, as he slowly begins to push deeper within me. Eye contact is lost as I prop myself up on my elbows and look down between my legs, his eyes are riveted too as we both watch his forearm slowly slide in an inch or two, before pulling back again. Again, his arm slides forward, deeper this time, twisting just a little, then pulling back again. A rhythm develops, and sensation abruptly overwhelms me as I feel his fist and arm dragging against my swollen cunt walls, my cervix rebelling with each push against it. My body is thrown into a tailspin as it attempts to push him out while also sucking him in.

It is unlike anything I could have imagined or ever experienced before. It's more than just the sensation of being filled beyond comfort that is propelling me forward towards an unknown peak I've never reached. It's everything. It's watching his arm disappear inside of me, claiming me. It's the unnatural act that it is, being filled by not a cock or a toy, but a man's fist and arm. It's what it represents, the vulnerability, the ultimate giving. All of it together is lifting me to a level of submission that I could never have understood otherwise, and the orgasm that is building behind these sensations threatens to undo me.

Patrick does not attempt to fist fuck me fast or hard, but continues his gentle rhythmic pace. He begins to move the wand over my swollen clit, taking care to remain over the hood lest the sensations become more intense than they already are. Slick with my cream and the lube, the wand glides back and forth over my hard clit as his fist and arm continue their movements inside of me. Before long I find myself begging for release.

"Please Master...please...agghhhhh. May I come, oh please let me come."

"Do it, Corrine. Come on my fist. Come until you can't take it, then give me more."

He doesn't change his movements or rhythm, but allows me as I begin to buck against him, the stretch and sense of being stuffed overcomes me and my orgasm flashes through me in a crazed series of spasms. Almost inhuman noises escape my mouth and my body flails on his arm. Fluid pours from my body and the release feels insanely cathartic. Aftershock continue to jolt through me, even after Patrick removes the wand from my oversensitive clit and slowly slides his lower forearm, hand, and now outstretched fingers out of my trembling channel.

More fluid leaks from inside of me and I'm feeling confused and stunned by my loss of control. I turn on my side away from him, curled into myself and begin to cry, not out of sadness but an extension of the release that has already started. The sheets are soaked. I feel raw, exposed, dirty, and incredibly vulnerable. All things I had been seeking, but together, all at once, threaten to pull me into my own head, far away from Patrick.

I hear the wand drop to the floor and without words or attempts to turn me towards him, Patrick conforms his body around mine, pulling me into his snug embrace. We lay there quietly, his warmth and strength soothing me, and I feel myself opening to him again, no longer feeling shame for my needs, or for the sounds and mess I made.

"Patrick?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"What the hell just happened?"

"You squirted, sweetheart." He pulls me in tighter, and I don't care that his arm, let alone the bed, is still covered in wetness.

"I don't...I've never..."

"You do, and you did."

"Holy fuck."

Suddenly, exhaustion roles over me like never before. It barely registers when Patrick gently helps me from the bed and guides me to the shower. Clipping my hair up, he runs the shower until its warm and coaxes me in with him. My eyes are heavy, but I can feel a soapy washcloth gliding over my body, then between my legs. I register that I am very, very tender, but the feeling only creates a gentle wave of pleasure to course through me once more.

Back in bed with clean sheets, as I'm about to drift, it occurs to me that he never found his release.

"Patrick, let me...," my words are almost slurred a little with sleep as my hand reaches down between his legs to his now soft cock.

"No, Corrine. Not tonight. That's not what tonight was about."

My mind attempts to process his words, but I can't seem to get past the idea that I failed him on some level for not getting him off.

"Before you punish yourself for not serving me, you need to know that you served me harder and deeper tonight than you ever have, and for that I am grateful." He kisses my forehead before continuing. "But know this...tonight you gave yourself to me in a way I have only ever dreamed of, and I am a greedy man. I'm going to want more, ask more, and demand more submission from you as your Master than I have before."

Suddenly I'm wide awake, contemplating his words and what they might mean. I know him though, and I trust him. He loves our companionship too much to make dramatic changes, and doesn't want that to change any more than I do. I'm left with only happiness and warmth in my heart, in belonging to him.

***

Two more chapter to go dear readers...



Rock and Water Ch. 09



This is the second to last installment for Rock and Water. While I'm excited to move on to new projects, I'm already beginning to mourn the end to my first story, and it's characters. Thanks to all who have followed from the beginning, with special thanks to FA_JF and lindseymarsh for their keen eyes. A shout out is deserved to everyone's favorite Brit for his advice on all things England, and educating me that there are, in fact, no ranches there.

***

Master.

Such a loaded word. In the most basic terms, it defines one person's authority over another; but in the context of my relationship with Patrick, the use of the word goes so much deeper, and brings such pleasure to us both. It's a word I'd never considered using, even as my interest in bdsm burgeoned. It felt contrived, as if the use of it only confirmed that bedroom games were being played. I still primarily call him Sir, but there are times during our sexual adventures, that nothing less than 'master' will do. At those times, I want to leave him with no doubt about my love, my trust, and my deference to his wicked desires. 

There have been times that we've surprised each other, with how potent and dark our explorations have taken us. We've had some heart to hearts whether they could harm the foundation we're building together, one that will very soon include having Addie back at home, and me working full-time again. For as much as power exchange has begun to creep into our everyday lives, there have been as many occasions where Patrick checks in with me, making sure I have little doubt of his love or respect, along with his commitment to our relationship.

Though, in those moments where I give myself to him, the peace I find in exposing my most base and raw desires to him, trusting him to guide me safely through those dark waters, have been the most sexually charged and freeing of my life.

These are the thoughts that pass through my Ambien -addled brain at a cruising altitude of 36,000 feet as we cross the country, and soon the Atlantic, to visit Addie in London. It's been three weeks since the pivotal evening that introduced Patrick's desire to be called Master, and my desire to feel owned.

In that time, very little has changed in our day to day, except that my kitchen is up and functioning again and I've started going back to the office once weekly to begin brainstorming for shows and interviews I'd like to do in September. Our worlds have begun to cross over, friends meeting friends.

We've gotten together with Gil and Vanessa a few times, and took Johanna and her husband to The Market for dinner one evening. Like teenagers, Johanna less than subtly leaned over during dinner to whisper in my ear, "OMG...he's hot!" Of course, it was heard by half the restaurant. Vanessa and Johanna hit it off, and the three of us have met for hikes and drinks on a few occasions.

As planned, we took Luka to my recording studio, and were both blown away by how much he understood all of the technical aspects of running a radio station. Although I'm sure the topics bored the hell out of him, he insisted on staying to watch a colleague deliver an hour of news.

I feel my eyes closing as I catch one last glance of Patrick asleep beside me, and before I drift a rush of childlike excitement runs through me once again, for my excitement of seeing Addie, and for the two of them finally meeting. While Patrick has become incredibly important to me, and my love for him deeper than any I've held for a man before, Addie will always be my number one.

***

As soon as we pass through customs and security, we spot Addie and her father, my ex-husband Frank. With just enough time for me to hurl my bags to the ground, she launches herself into my arms. Both men are lost to me as I hold my girl for the first time in almost two months. I try to hold in my tears so as not to embarrass her, but I just can't help it and as I finally move back and hold her at arm's distance away, I see matching tears have wet her cheeks too. We whisper our love, and how much we've missed each other, then return to our tight embrace once again. In the periphery, I see Patrick walk over to Frank and the two shake hands and make introductions. 

Finally emerging from our happy bubble, we find the two men standing next to each other, both smiling at the spectacle of our mother-daughter reunion tear-fest. I quickly step forward and give Frank a tight hug. His arm quickly envelopes my waist, treating me to a familiar and warm squeeze.

"Hi, Frank. It's good to see you."

His warm, brown eyes smile back at me, and I already know everything between us is good. He is still as handsome as I remember; only an inch or two shorter than Patrick's 6'3", his body is just a bit thicker, his shoulders broader. His dark brown hair has grown longer, curling just above the collar of his button down shirt. The beard that he'd worn for the last few years of our marriage is gone, making him look younger and more relaxed than he has in years.

"It's good to see you too, Corrine."

In my excitement for Addie to meet Patrick, I hadn't anticipated how it would feel to see Frank again, and I have to admit a small rush goes through me at the easy familiarity there is between us. It's not sexual, but almost like coming home. Some bonds don't break, even if divorce papers declare it so.

"Thanks for finding a place for us to stay, so close to you two."

"No Problem. My mates are off on holiday for the week and it suited them to have their cat looked after anyway. Addie's decided after all that she'd like to stay with you, so we've been through and set up the extra room."

This is a surprise to me; a very nice one. While Addie had seemed enthusiastic about meeting Patrick, the last she'd told me was that she'd prefer to stay with Frank until Patrick left after a few days to stay with his friends just outside of Bedford.

It's Addie who breaks the silence, "Um...Mom?" I can see she's looking shyly up at Patrick.

"Oh, of course...," I shake my head a bit, still spacey from the long flight. "Addie, this is Patrick." I then turn to Patrick, "Patrick, this is my girl, Addie. Looks like you've already met Frank."

Patrick steps forward to Addie first, extending his hand to shake hers. She looks a bit stricken and takes a step backwards towards Frank, who reflexively puts his hand on her shoulder. Patrick's hand immediately drops, and he stops where he is, giving her the space she needs, but a warm smile crosses his face.

"Addie, it's so nice to meet you after all this time. Your mom has told me so much about you."

In typical tween fashion, Addie rolls her eyes and groans, burying her face in Frank's arm which has Frank and I chuckling, and Patrick looking totally lost. "Ughhh. I can only imagine. Mom...what have you told him?"

I pull her back to me and squeeze her against me. "Nothing you wouldn't tell him yourself...but I did show him your baby pictures."

"MOM!!"

Patrick speaks up. "Seriously though, Addie, you were a pretty cute kid. The pictures were great."

She looks at him warily. "Uh, sure...whatever you say."

He continues, obviously trying to find some footing with her. "Your mom tells me you've ridden horses a few times. My friends, just outside of the city, have a few and would love you to come out and ride with us."

She just stares at Patrick a bit, biting on her lower lip and clearly unsure of what to make of him.

"Um...thanks. I don't know." She looks down at the ground, shrugs and walks back over to Frank, who whispers in her ear, causing her to shrug again.

In two steps I'm in front of her, taking her hands in mine. "It's okay, hon. I know this is weird for you and it's going to take some time."

When she looks up her eyes are moist. "I'm sorry mom. I just...I want to be cool about this but it's just weird that he's here...and dad's here." Addie pauses, and before she can stop herself blurts out, "Shite!"

All at the same time, Patrick bursts into laughter, I look at her stunned, and Frank quickly whispers, "Addie! What did I say about using that word?"

She stands up a little taller, and says back to him, "You said words are just words, and unless they're said in malice that it's all cool...except at school...or in front of grandparents."

I just smile and nod. "I see you're getting an education in English dialect while here."

This earns me another eye role, while Frank buries his head in his hands and Patrick continues to stifle his laughter.

Frank regains his composure and grabs my bag. "Alright then; let's head to the car park."

***

We arrive at the flat that Frank's friend is loaning us for the week. Once again, Frank grabs my bag, hauling it up the three flights for me, while Patrick carries his own and our carry-on. The master bedroom has been set up for Patrick and me, while a spare room has Addie's suitcase already resting on the bed. 

I feel wistful seeing her bag on the small bed, and before I can say anything Patrick walks purposefully into the room and throws his suitcase on the bed.

"Addie, no reason for you not to spend the nights with your mom; you've been away from each other so long."

With that, he picks up Addie's bag and walks it over to the master bedroom, setting it next to my own where Frank had left it. Addie immediately brightens up and begins to bounce up and down a little, clearly excited by the idea. In the short time since I'd discovered Addie would be staying with us at the flat, I hadn't realized how conflicted I felt about sleeping in a room with Patrick. Suddenly I feel the weight of my anxiety roll off my body, causing me to be as giddy as she is.

I look over her shoulder at Patrick, and mouth a quiet, "Thank you."

A warm smile and slight nod tells me all I need to know.

***

The next few days are most definitely the most platonic Patrick and I have ever spent together, but also some of the most fun too. Addie, Patrick and I have filled our days with every tourist attraction we could, including a Jack the Ripper tour, a trip to Madame Tussauds, and even taking pictures of ourselves at the Abbey Road crossing. Addie seems more at ease with Patrick outside of the flat, even ribbing him a bit about his mild claustrophobia as we rode the London Eye. He took it in good nature, but even I had to admit I'd never seen him look so pale.

In the flat, though, she barely mumbles a word to him. Unless he goes off on his own, she buries herself in books. For that reason, Patrick takes many walks "to explore the neighborhood" during these days, to allow Addie and I to spend time on our own. He doesn't want to push her into liking him, and I appreciate his restraint.

On his last night with us, before Patrick leaves to stay with his friends, Frank and his girlfriend take Addie and a friend to a concert. She plans to sleep at the friends, giving Patrick and me our first night alone since arriving in London. Once he leaves, Addie and I will have a few days together to shop and hang out before I go to meet him on the farm. There have been discussions on whether Addie would like to join us out there for the day to go horseback riding, but she's still undecided.

These have been some of my happiest days in years, and glimmers of hope fill me as I consider a future together as a family. Long days of exploring London, followed by late night girl-talks with Addie, have kept Patrick and I at arm's length since we've arrived. Even when we've been alone, affection has been limited to fleeting kisses and rare embraces. Considering the focus our relationship has had on sex and pleasure, it's reassuring to see how easy we are together during more platonic times. 

Patrick seems happy too, but it occurs to me that we've only spent a few days with Addie, and wonder whether he truly understands what life will be like once she's home again. Although there'll be weekends with her grandparents and the occasional sleepover with friends, she's going to be in the house more often than not.

***

After dropping Addie off at Frank's house, we stop for some curry, eating out of containers at a local park. We sit in the grass, across from each other, eating mostly in silence. Neither of us have mentioned heading out for the night, which is fine by me as his smoldering looks throughout the meal have my panties damp and my nipples stiffening beneath my summer dress. We leave more than we eat, too impatient to be bothered.

Setting our food aside, Patrick gently pulls me forward into his arms, then guides me back until I'm lying in the grass with him above me, held up by his strong arms as he looks down at me with fire in his eyes.

"I want you, Corrine..." He reaches down and runs his slightly calloused thumb over my top lip first, then drags it across the bottom lip of my slightly open mouth. My tongue darts out, making contact with the tip, tasting remnants of the samosa he just ate. I brazenly lean down and trap his thumb, down to the knuckle, between my teeth and lips and suck hard as I look up into his eyes. Heat radiates from his gaze, and a low growl escapes his throat.

Once I release him, his mouth crashes down onto my own; the full weight of his firm body blankets mine. Lost in our kiss, we fail to notice a group of teenage girls gathered on a wall nearby until their giggles break through our erotic haze. We stand and give a slight bow to the girls, before cleaning up and heading back to the flat.

Just blocks from the flat, I'm surprised as Patrick pulls me into a small market and begins to search the aisles with an obvious mission. I'm only left with more questions when he grabs an electric toothbrush from the shelf, then two boxes of cling wrap, before heading towards the pharmacy section of the store. He slows as we reach treatments for cough and colds, looking keenly at the products until he finds what he's looking for. Vicks Vapor rub.

Realization dawns on me for what he has in mind. My whole body turns soft as heat suffuses through my core and wetness escapes my swelling pussy lips, quickly saturating my panties. I'd previously shared with Patrick that in one of my phone sessions with Robert, he'd instructed me to gently rub tiger balm over the hood of my clit and around my tight, puckered asshole. The tingles and heat that penetrated deep into those erotic tissues ignited sensations that shook me to my core. Patrick had asked me if I'd ever like to try it again and I recall blushing furiously and eagerly nodding my head. That was almost two months ago, and we haven't discussed it again.

Just the thought of playing with menthol again, especially with Patrick, has my whole body buzzing as we pay for our purchases and walk back to the flat. I'm practically trotting with eagerness while he's as calm and contained as ever, although a smile keeps dancing on his features in response to my clear excitement.

As we take our last steps up to the fourth floor, he jokes, "You're awfully excited tonight, Corrine. How can you be so sure I don't have a cold coming on and need a little menthol rubbed on my chest and a good night sleep?"

"Well then...," I say, with feigned sympathy, "Let's get you straight to bed. Once you're asleep you won't be needing this!" As soon as we close the door behind us I make a grab for the bag, but before I can reach it he tosses it on the couch and with little effort pins me against the wall; his hands capturing my forearms on either side of my face. His touch is firm, but not rough in the least. His blue eyes shine down on me. My gaze fixates on his lips. Unconsciously, my own tongue travels along my lower lip, moistening it in anticipation.

"Sir?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I've missed this. I've missed you."

An undefinable emotion sweeps over his face before he folds me into his arms, his head leaning onto my own.

"I've missed being close to you too, Corrine, but I have to say these past days with Addie have meant the world to me. She's absolutely a killer girl...just like her mom. Funny, sweet, a bit nerdy." He shakes his head slowly, and sighs. "I hope I've made a good impression...I hope she's okay with this."

I run my fingers through his hair, then gently down his trimmed beard. "I think she is. It's just going to take some time. These are hard years for her, especially with Frank and I divorced; but it's been long enough now that she's mostly accepted it. It'll just be a matter of whether she can handle sharing me once we get home."

"I'm in this for the long-haul...I hope you know that." He's looking down on me with a sincerity that makes my heart explode.

I push myself up on to tip-toes and graze my lips against his.

"I know that, Patrick. I'm with you there."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Standing up, he takes a step back, his hands on my shoulders. His voice deepens; the tone more commanding.

"Okay then, sweetheart...are you going to be a good girl for me tonight, or do you need a reminder of what happens when you're naughty?"

"Oh, no Sir...I mean, yes. I'll be good!"

My eyes flit over once again to the innocuous bag sitting on the couch containing the recipe for my torture and my pleasure tonight.

His gaze follows mine to the plain brown sack, then taking my hand, he leads me over to the couch and we sit on either side of the bag. He doesn't make a move to open it.

His voice startles me. It's warm, deep, and pensive. "It's wonderful how for most of the population, the items that line the shelves of markets and pharmacies are just what they seem to be at face value; never would they imagine other possible uses. Aren't you lucky to have a boyfriend who recognizes these items for their other potentials?"

"You're the kinky MacGyver!" I blurt out.

Patrick bursts out in laughter, failing in his attempt to issue me a stern look.

He reaches forward and secures my chin between his thumb and forefinger, catching my attention and sending a rush of excitement through me. In a cautioning voice that belies his clear amusement, he says, "Shush, naughty girl..."

He continues. "But you're like me, aren't you? When you see clothes hanging by clothespins in neighbor's yards, you blush when you remember what those clips feel like pinching your most intimate flesh. When you see long, thick vegetables at the market, you ponder how they'd feel, imagining them in all three of your holes." 

As he talks, my skin begins to prickle and my face and neck begin to flush.

"Lastly, Corrine, I've seen how your body responds when I pull my belt out of my pants, even on nights we aren't playing."

My breath catches. He knows me so well. He could be miles away and all I have to do is imagine his hand on his belt, slowly pulling it from the belt loops, and my clit tingles.

"Which leads us to tonight, when you saw me take the Vicks from the shelf; you immediately knew what I had in mind. It made my cock hard to hear your breath quicken...to see that little shiver go through your sweet body."

A blush travels down my body, caressing my skin in heat. I look back to his eyes, pleading with my own for him to touch me. Pushing the bag off the couch, his strong hands are on my hips, pulling me up and over so I'm straddling his thighs, facing him.

Passive at first, he lets me lead the kiss we started in the park. My tongue penetrates his lips; touching the tip of his before slipping in, letting our tongues caress each other in an erotic dance. My mind begins to slip into that soft, familiar space deep inside, where all else but sensation and submission to Patrick cease to exist.

I break from the kiss to look at him. A calm intensity transforms his features; a tethered strength emanates where from moments before tenderness had prevailed.

I can also feel his now semi-rigid cock pressing against my mound, and I begin to rock my hips in a slow rhythm. The skirt of my dress has ridden above my hips, and my saturated panties are rough against my pussy lips and clit. I begin to grind hard on his cock, causing the crotch of my cotton panties to bunch and push between my greedy lips. 




Rock and Water Ch. 09



We both let go long denied groans of pleasure. Desperation grows inside of me; I'm hungry for his cock in a way that pushes my own needs down. All I want is to please him, to show him how much this week together has meant to me.

"Please sir, I need to feel your cock...to see it...to taste it."

"Ah, fuck, Corrine. My sweet slut...suck my cock, baby. I've got a long night planned for you, and if I don't release my load soon I'll never be able to focus on all of the delicious tortures I've planned for you tonight. Make me come, baby."

No need to be asked twice! I jump off his lap and undo his belt, button and zipper. In one motion his hips are up, and he's pushing his shorts and boxers down to his ankles. His knees spread, allowing me access to his cock and balls. Crouched on my knees on the couch, I approach him from his side. I slip both of my hands between his legs, one cupping his very full and sensitive scrotum, the other takes his hardening cock by the base, guiding it to my lips.

I begin by stroking his cock from the base upwards, then down again. My hand is firm and snug around his hard length, and I can feel every ridge and vein beneath the velvety skin. My mouth becomes increasingly wet, anticipating his taste; lowering my mouth to just above the crown without touching it, I open my lips and allow the wetness to drip onto and down the head of his cock.

Once my saliva is glistening on the dark and engorged flesh, I purse my lips and begin to blow gently. Patrick throws his head back with an aching moan, as his cock pulses beneath my hand. His balls twitch and pull closer to his body in reflex, but my hand there begins to gently squeeze and massage them, coaxing them back again. I continue to blow cool air down his length, still cradling the base firmly in my other hand. His cock is now rigid in my grasp; long, thick, and absolutely sexy as hell. Precum beads at the slit before dripping downwards.

Just before I lower my tongue to taste one glistening pearl as it forms, his hand reaches down and grasps my scalp, pulling my head back so I can look into his fiery eyes. "Okay now, baby, warm me up with that mouth of yours."

My eyes still on his, I lower my head down, over his cock, until my lips contact my fisted hand near the base. I hear Patrick let out his breath in a long, slow release as his legs relax and spread a little bit more. His hand is tight in my scalp, causing prickles to race down my neck, straight to my clit. Although his grip is firm, I control the pace and depth of the penetration, for now anyway. My nipples are turgid peaks, rubbing against the fabric of my dress with each bob of my head.

He releases my hair, moving his hand slowly down my back. I feel him gather the material of my dress at a leisurely pace, until it bunches just above the small of my back. His hand begins to caress my ass cheeks, just barely covered by my cotton panties. Strong fingers grasp the material through both leg-holes as he clenches the flimsy material together until it's no thicker than a cord, then pulls it snuggly between the cheeks of my ass. Reaching below my belly, he does the same to the front of my panties, pulling it tightly between my cunt lips and over my swollen and straining clit, making me groan and wiggle.

As I begin to suck him in earnest, he begins to alternate between slapping my ass cheeks and pulling tightly on my soaking panties; each tug cutting between my sensitive lips and mashing my clit against my pelvic bone. Pain and pleasure combine once again and a vortex of pleasure begins to build within me.

I push my hand further between his legs, using two fingers to massage firmly just behind his scrotum. His cock jerks and a surge of precum leaks into my mouth, letting me know his pleasure with my efforts. I let go of the base of his cock, allowing my lips to push downwards until I feel coarse hair tickle my nose and lips. The thick head of his cock pushes and opens my throat, again and again. My chokes and gags fill the air, but we both know I enjoy this almost as much as he does. The sounds and the mess I make I my attempts to open my throat to him turn us both on. They are the sounds of submission.

My fingers press even further back, in an act I've never attempted before, and I press two of them just over his own tight hole.

"Ah, Corrine!" He yells out, but doesn't stop me. I know my fingers are dry, and I can't attempt to penetrate him, but I resume the rhythmic massage there that I had started on his perineum and I feel him shift his hips, allowing me to continue. Knowing how much ass play brings me pleasure, I've wanted to do the same for him for a while now, but felt too shy to broach the topic, even though he knows all of my secrets and desires.

Gasps and low growls escape him as his orgasm builds. His hand continues to spank my ass, but the rhythm and strength of each slap wanes, until it stops and his hand is back in my hair, guiding my mouth in just the way he needs to get off. His hips rise to meet my lips in quick jerks, before a flood of cum surges into my mouth and down my throat. I swallow as quickly as I can, but feel some leak through my lips and onto him.

Patrick pulls my head up and away from his now overly sensitive cock. I smile up at him, and before I can use my arm to wipe my chin dry, he pulls me forward into a passionate and hard kiss. I know he can taste himself on my lips, and love that it doesn't deter him. I find it incredibly sexy, as he does when I taste myself on his lips. We both like our sex dirty and raw; to have our senses filled and overflowing with each other.

When he becomes less sensitive, I use my tongue to clean him dry before he lifts his boxers and shorts up once again. I notice the belt remains off.

His eyes lock onto mine, and with one word my body begins to buzz with anticipation.

"Strip."

As I toss my dress on the couch, and pull my sticky, drenched panties from between swollen pussy lips, I watch as he grabs the bag, then moves over to small open kitchen. He pulls out one of the tall bar stools from the kitchen bar counter that we've been eating our meals from. As is the rest of the flat, the stool is cross of modern and contemporary; made of white finely polished wood with bright orange leather padded backs. The corners are rounded, with no sharp edges. Setting the bag on the counter, he removes its contents; first the Vicks, then the electric tooth brush, and finally the two boxes of cling wrap.

"Come here, Corrine. Sit." His voice penetrates me on so many levels, causing delicious changes to my body, and acute focus of my mind.

"Yes, sir."

My feet move of their own volition until I reach the barstool, then half jump, half push myself my hands, up onto the chair. My bare ass makes contact with the cool wood. Patrick directs me to scoot back, until my back makes contact with the soft leather of the chair.

"Sit up straight, arms crossed at the wrist behind the chair, legs spread and over the sides. See if you can line up your ankles with the front posts of the stool. There you go, baby, that's just perfect. Now tilt your hips forward, just a touch. Let's make sure I have full access to that needy cunt."

As I'm following his directions, I'm watching as he casually takes a roll of the cling wrap out of its box and walks behind me. I hear the tell-tale sound of plastic wrap being pulled from its roll, then feel as it is succinctly and evenly wrapped around my torso, including my wrists and lower arms that are still behind me. He's careful to not allow my shoulders to be strained, or my arms to be pulled too tightly together, but the effect is incredibly restricting. The wrap, which started just above my navel, extends to just below my breasts. I take a deep breath, and note that my breathing is not restricted in the least, and the moment of panic that threatened to seep in quickly dissipates.

My breasts sag just a bit over the upper edge of the plastic, and I can feel droplets of sweat develop between my sensitive flesh and the binding wrap that confines me.

"Are you okay, Corrine? Are you comfortable?" I can see both concern and lust dueling in his eyes.

"Oh, sir. It feels incredible... Yes, I'm okay. Please go on." The plastic against my skin feels tight and smooth...so much more confining than the rope we've used in the past.

"I have scissors right here. Just say the word, any word, and the wrap will be off of you immediately."

I see that Patrick had pulled the kitchen scissors out of the wood block they'd been kept in, and their proximity makes me feel even more at ease; more able to let go to his control and my desires.

I nod, and say, "Thank you sir."

He flashes me a quick smile, before continuing with the wrap, this time around the calf and ankle of my left leg, securing it to the corresponding front leg of the chair. He finishes off the roll and then repeats the same action on my right leg with the second roll. He puts the remaining cling wrap back into its box and puts it in the utility drawer for the flat owner's future use.

In two long steps he's standing in front of me. He stops and just stares for a bit; emotions, both tender and carnal, alight his face.

"You look beautiful like that, Corrine. Your flesh under the clear wrap...so pale and naked...your exposed skin with just a hint of flush. It's fucking hot as hell."

As an aside, he quickly adds, "...and it's a damn good thing I've come already, because if I hadn't I'd probably explode inside of my shorts right now."

My giggles break through the nerves that have been creeping in as I wonder, just what does he have planned for me?

With one more step he's between my legs, pressed against the front of the chair. His eyes caress my face, arms, and chest, only to be followed by his touch.

Fingertips brush wisps of my hair behind my ears, sending goose bumps down my neck. They trace each eyebrow before blazing a sensuous trail across my cheek and over my lips. His gentle touch is igniting a much more forceful response within me, as tremors begin to shake my body with each breath. Two fingers push my chin up and to the side, exposing my pale neck to his touch. This time it's his nails that I feel tracing from the underside of my chin to the hollow of my throat; two fingers return just above and to the left, feeling my bounding pulse beneath them. This makes him smile.

With just the lightest of touch, both hands now continue a path of tender torment across my shoulders, over my breasts, nipples and plastic covered torso. Squatting on his powerful legs just in front of me, his hands run over the tops of my thighs and down my calves. He uses the backs of his hands and nails to trace up and down the sensitive skin on the insides of my limbs, each time getting closer to my exposed and swollen pussy. I feel the puffy lips spread for him, as droplets of moisture collect on the chair below. If I could, I would thrust my hips towards his touch, but the wrapping prohibits even the slightest of movements.

I look down on myself, and can see my swollen clit protruding from its hood, begging to be touched, begging for relief, but there's none to be had. My head is swooning as he stands and walks back to the couch, returning with his belt.

"Show me you can turn your head side to side."

Without thought, I do as he asks. 

"I've never gagged you before, Corrine. I'd like to tonight. I want to see your mouth stretched by my belt. You won't have any trouble breathing around it. It's also just fine if you say no and we'll continue what we've started." He places a hand on my arm, looking in my eyes for any signs of distress. "Answer me with words, please."

"Yes...gag me, sir."

Giving him my voice only deepens the lovely, submissive headspace that I'm floating in. Like layers of an onion, it's one more level of control that I'm offering him. Ultimately, I know that a few shakes of my head will return all control back to me, which is comforting.

From behind me, the belt is placed in my mouth and I can feel and hear as Patrick cinches the strap through the buckle until my lips are stretched tightly but not painfully. When he's done, the slack of the belt falls behind my neck and then down beyond the back of the chair.

Back in front of me, he commands, "Shake your head three times...back and forth."

Once again, I do as he asks. He sees that I'm able to, and gives a quick nod and wink.

"Okay...those three shakes are your safeword. If at any time anything I'm doing to you is causing you any level of pain, especially the menthol, you need to shake your head and let me know."

"Ye..thur." I try to talk before I remember the belt, which clearly amuses him and makes me blush furiously. A little drool escapes the corner of my mouth.

"So fucking sexy..." He uses his thumb to smear my drool across my chin.

He reaches towards the counter, and grabs, then opens the jar of Vicks. So much more than just a smell, it's a sensation. Tingles and tickles flood my nose and sinuses as he approaches. He runs his finger through the untouched ointment, collecting a large dollop on his fingertip. He rubs some first on one, and then the other areola and nipple. I don't feel anything at first, but I rapidly suck in air as the cool heat penetrates deep into the flesh of my breasts. We watch as my nipples elongate and the areolas pebble beneath the sheen of goo.

Behind the belt, I begin to emit small gasps as a fire ignites inside of me. The initial intensity wanes, but the stimulation continues to breathe fire into my chest. My breasts feel heavy and swollen, aching to be squeezed and touched. I've never been able to come from stimulation of my breasts alone, but in this moment I'm convinced I could if he would just damn well touch them. I plead with my eyes and jiggle them for him, attempting to coax him into action. I'm received with a smile and a shake of his head.

"Oh, Corrine...it's going to be a long night for you." He looks almost apologetic for what he has planned for me, but overriding any compassion he may hold for the moment is a look of excitement and maddening control, and I know that no truer words have ever been said.

I inhale deeply; the smell of my excitement mingles with the menthol as my juices continue to pool between my legs and onto the chair. As if he is just sensing it himself, a low growl escapes Patrick's chest as he squats down once more, pressing his mouth intimately between my wide-spread legs. Using the flat of his tongue, in one long, fluid stroke he licks from the bottom of my open pussy, deep between the swollen folds, before raking across my very erect clit. My body begins to involuntarily spasm and tremble from the intensity. Repeating this motion over and over again, it's clear he is enjoying cleaning every last drop of my excitement, although his actions are only succeeding in creating more.

Behind the belt, desperate groans and gasps flow freely from my lips. My head is thrown back, eyes closed, as I absorb the sensations careening through my body. I force myself to open them, and look down just in time to see his tongue lap at my clit. This vision alone nearly sends me over the edge. I struggle in my restraints, not in attempt to set myself free, but to enjoy the sensation of being completely bound and helpless.

"Patrick...sir...please!" I beg. Although is comes out as "Hathrick...thur...hease!"

He pulls back, the look on his face raw. Primal. My heart explodes from the stark desire in his eyes.

"No words, love... Although you sound pretty adorable with my belt in your mouth." My face burns once again from hearing the nonsensical words instead of my usually radio-ready voice.

"Do you want to come, Corrine?"

I nod eagerly. Too eagerly.

"I think not..."

My heart deflates.

"...yet."

My heart beats once again, and even faster as I see him reach for the Vicks. Scooping a generous dollop onto his forefinger, he looks into my eyes as he approaches, until his gaze slowly shifts until it's locked on to the pink and puffy folds of my pussy. Squatting down once again, with almost clinical expertise he uses one hand to stretch my outer lips, exposing my pulsing clit and inner labia. In a conversational tone, he talks to me as he proceeds.

"Vulnerability only enhances your beauty, Corrine. I know how strong you are... how competent. That you willingly release that power to me is such an honor. That you allow me to mark you, to tease your body...to torture it...fills me with such pride and love for you." He pauses to look up at me, before continuing on.

"It also turns me on to no end, and brings out some pretty heady sadistic tendencies. I confess that I love to watch you squirm as I edge you, to see you on the brink of madness as your need to orgasm passes beyond the point of pleasure. My cock throbs when I hear you gasp with each slap of my hand against your bare ass, or whip of the flogger. I watch with amazement and admiration that you do this for me. And tonight, at your invitation, I get to watch you as the heat and power of the Vicks works deep into your fat, beautiful clit."

My eyes widen and my moans fall silent as I watch his finger approach my most sensitive spot.

He starts by rubbing his ointment covered finger on top of the hood of my clit, then on either side. He's avoiding the protruding, exposed head, concentrating on all of the surrounding skin. At first I feel nothing, except the pleasure of his touch, but then it hits, and when it does, the intensity ratchets up insanely quickly. Sensation that is almost orgasmic-like on its own vibrates from my clit deep inside. It almost feels like I have to pee, my whole pelvis sings as it tingles. There's no pain, only intense and pure pleasure as my hips squirm and buck as best they can. Bypassing the sensitive skin of my pussy, I feel him reach between my ass cheeks and the chair, feeling the finger wiggle around the ring of my asshole, and just barely penetrating it before he slides his hand out.

My eyes close as I try to control my breathing. Wave after wave of electric pulses course through me but keep me just at the edge. Without his touch, any touch, there is no way for me to crash over. I ride the crest as long as I can, my mind empty but for the amazing pleasure that Patrick has launched me into. Just when I think I can't go on without coming, I hear his voice, thick with lust.

"Open your eyes, Corrine. Look at me."

As I do, what I see causes my jaw to slacken around the belt. He's holding the electric toothbrush in his hand.

Of all of the items he bought tonight, this is the one I hadn't considered, not even for a moment. I can't say why, I just didn't. But now that I see it in front of me, it's clear my torment is far from over.

"Answer me honestly...it's all good either way. Is the Vicks okay? Too intense? Do you want me to wash it off before we go on?"

I vehemently shake my head, the hair that has escaped the confines of the belt sweeping over my eyes.

He nods, acknowledging that I'm good, and turns on the toothbrush.

It looks so benign, but when the hum of its vibrations fills the air, my already hypersensitive body goes on high-alert. He steps in front of me, lowering the device to the side of my left breast. The first touch makes me jump and squeal, but as he gently runs the bristles over the expanse of pale flesh my body becomes accustomed to the intensity and I press against my bindings to encourage deeper contact.

He follows a similar pattern on my right breast; under...over...side to side, avoiding my areola and nipple. I sigh deeply as waves of heat resonate from my chest to my pussy and back again. Agonizingly slow, he finally trails the bristles over my right areola and nipple. Already hard and distended from the menthol, which at this point has faded in intensity, I can feel each bristle as it lightly scratches the surface of these most sensitive areas.




Rock and Water Ch. 09



"Aaaahhhhh...," is all I can say when he moves back to my left nipple. He spends what feels like an hour, but in actuality is more likely five minutes going back and forth between each breast, leaving me in almost a hypnotic state.

Although he was never rough, I look down at my heaving chest and see my breasts are flushed pink, with the occasional fine scratch etched into the usually pale skin.

For just a brief moment, Patrick turns off the toothbrush, removes the belt from my mouth and hurriedly takes off all of his clothing. The sight of his body only pushes me further into that placid zone where endorphins swim through my brain and my body is alight with pleasure. His rock hard cock bobs between his legs, its veins bulge prominently and the head is crimson with excitement. Precum has formed, creating a glistening sheen.

Rivulets of sweat gather between my torso and plastic wrap; my arms, shoulders and limbs are strained, which only serves to amplify both the pleasure and duress within me that are feeding off of each other.

Picking up the toothbrush again, his warm voice breaks through my haze.

"Alright, sweetheart. I can see you're buzzing in a sweet zone right now. This is going to get pretty intense, very quickly. I want you to hold off as long as you can...ride the sensation...feel it all. When you're ready to come, just let it all go. Can you try that for me?"

My voice, cut off to me while gagged by his belt, sounds rough and filled with need.

"Y...yes, sir. Oh, please sir, please my master."

Patrick's eyes blaze in response to my words. He takes his cock in his hand that isn't holding the toothbrush, and smears his precum down its length. He strokes his powerful hand up and down the shaft and head for a few strokes before releasing it with a growl.

"I'm telling you now, my girl, as soon as you come I'm cutting you out of your bondage and I'm going to fuck you hard."

With that, he turns on the toothbrush, spreads my outer cunt lips once again, and touches it to my clit. This time the initial contact is with the back of the toothbrush, but the rapid vibrations very quickly have me gasping and trembling at his touch. The vibrations, on top of the lingering heat from the Vicks, cut deep inside of me, through my pelvis, deep to my g-spot.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck..." I whisper, as my juices flood the chair.

"Hold on, baby...hold it back."

"Ungh..." I'm bucking and groaning, writhing with pleasure, becoming almost fearful of the orgasm I'm trying to stave off. Tears form in the corners of my eyes, and he leans down to kiss them away.

He flips the toothbrush around, the sharp bristles coming in contact with the hood of my clit. For "soft" bristles, they feel rough and sharp. He gently rubs the brush up and down the hood, dragging the flesh with it exciting the erect tissue underneath. Palm side up, two fingers enter my cunt, my swollen walls squeeze in on them. His fingertips make contact with my g-spot, pushing firmly and rubbing in a controlled repetitive pattern.

"Wow! I can feel those vibrations radiate straight through my fingertips...that's amazing power."

"Uh, huh..." is all I can respond with as my orgasm grows like a helium balloon about to pop. Pressure builds within me, reaching every corner of my body until I can't hold back any longer. An explosion of pleasure and light crashes through me; I barely notice that he's turned off the toothbrush and put it aside. He continues to fuck his fingers in and out of my pussy, milking every last sensation from my body.

My head falls forward, as I slump in my bindings. My breath is coming in short pants, not from being restricted, but from the marathon I'd just endured. I'm vaguely aware that he is carefully cutting through the plastic; limbs first, then my torso. Painful prickles jerk me back as my arms and legs are allowed to move once again. Patrick massages each limb individually with strong fingers, until normal circulation returns.

"All good?" He asks, tilting my head upwards to look into my glassy eyes.

"So good, sir." I say sleepily.

"Okay, sweet girl. This is going to be fast and rough."

In one sweeping motion, he picks me up from the chair, carrying me in his arms before laying me down on my back, on the bed. On his knees before me, my legs are pushed back and my ankles up over his shoulders; he drives into my cunt in one fluid thrust and begins to fuck me as he promised. Hard, fast, and deep. His balls slap my ass with each thrust. While I know my body is incapable of another orgasm, the feeling of his cock inside of me, fitting so perfectly, rubbing just the right way, currents of pleasure continue to thrill my body.

"Ah, Corrine. Fuck! This feels so fucking good. You are so tight, baby..."

Words of raw lust continue to pass his lips; his eyes are clenched shut, his lips parted. Intense concentration dominates his features until his eyes shoot open look down into mine as his orgasm sweeps through his body. His hips jerk against my flesh, as cum floods my core.

He collapses next to me, pulling me close so my head rests on his chest. Lazy fingers trail a pattern across my back as we both recover. The cat, who has chosen to remain hidden for the majority of our trip decides in this moment it's time to be social, jumps up on the bed and curls up just behind my back purring loudly. The heat is almost unbearable but I don't have the heart to move him.

"Patrick?"

"Hmmm?" He replies, sleepily.

"Please make sure to pack that toothbrush home."

"Looking after your dental hygiene, are we?"

"Mm, hmm. Something like that."

***

Patrick's friends Tyson and Alexandra, or Alex as she prefers to be called, come to the city to pick him up the next afternoon. We'd spent the last few hours with Addie, and she's decided after all to visit the farm on the day I'm to go out there. Frank and his girlfriend, Carrie, offer to drop the two of us off in the morning, and pick up Addie at the end of the day. I'll be staying on for our last days of vacation until it's time to head home.

The next few days with Addie are a whirlwind of shopping, watching silly summer movies, and just hanging out. I won't say it's been all easy; preteen hormones would never allow for that, but overall we make the most of our time together. It's clear she enjoys having me all to herself, but she seems to understand that Patrick and I are involved now, and that we plan to stay together and develop our relationship.

She asks some good questions, including if he'll be sleeping at the house with us. I tell her in time, probably so, but not straight away after she comes home. She seems satisfied with that answer, but she then gets a questioning expression on her face, and looks down at her fingernails shyly.

"Do you love him, Mom?"

I nod my head. "I do, Addie...very much."

She nods her head, and is quiet for a moment.

"I think Dad loves Carrie."

She peeks her eyes up to mine through her eyelashes, looking to see how I feel about this news.

"That's good honey. I'm really happy for him. While I don't have romantic feelings for your father any more, I'll never stop caring for his happiness and welfare."

A flash of relief passes through her eyes, and I realize how much worry she's carried within herself about Frank and I, and our happiness. I fold her into my arms.

"Ah, honey, your heart is bigger than any I know."

***

We arrive at Tyson and Alex's farm in mid-morning, just in time for a huge brunch spread that they've prepared for us. It's so good to see Patrick, but we curtail our enthusiasm a little for Addie's sake. The plan for the day is for the three of us to ride horses through fields and trails, our destination a sheep farm owned by some of their friends. Once there, we'd sample some cheeses and tour the ranch before heading back. Tyson and Alex plan to drive there and meet us. The ride itself shouldn't take much more than an hour each way, unless we stop to take in some sights.

Sadly, the best laid plans never turn out as one hopes, and it turns out one of the horses has thrown a shoe, leaving only two to ride. Patrick is a much stronger rider than I am, and knows the area well from previous visits, so it's decided that he and Addie will go alone. She's so wrapped up in excitement that it doesn't seem to faze her much that it will just be the two of them.

It's odd to watch them ride off together, but I can see her chatting away happily until I lose sight of them over the ridge. Tyson, Alex, and I drive to their friend's farm, getting there only twenty minutes before the riders should arrive. Twenty becomes forty, and my nerves begin to rattle a bit; forty becomes an hour and I'm pacing as Tyson and Alex attempt to calm me down when I realize we have no way of contacting them. Alex makes a call to the one other farm they may have passed through, and is told that they had been seen, but over an hour ago.

Just as their friends begin to saddle up their own horses, ready to hit the trail in search of Patrick and Addie, a single silhouette of a horse can be seen in the distance. We all run into the field, and can quickly see that the horse is carrying two riders. Addie is riding in front of Patrick, fabric from his flannel shirt has been made into a make-shift sling and her arm is being held snug against her body. Her face is smeared from old tears, and remnants of leaves are in her hair and on her clothes. Despite all of this she actually has a smile on her face.

Patrick, on the other hand, looks like he's aged five years since I saw him this morning.

"Addie!! What happened?"

"I think I broke my arm, mom!"

She shouts this with almost glee in her voice, and I realize that she probably has some wicked adrenaline running through her; the world's best pain-killer.

We get them back to the house, then onto Bedford Hospital. Addie is talking a mile a minute, about a tree branch that fell and spooked her horse, causing it to gallop down a trail, too narrow for anything but a walk or trot. She explains how she lost her reins and stirrups, and how she was holding on to her horse's neck as best as she could. She flashes a smile to Patrick, and essentially calls him her hero for galloping just behind her, coaching her to hold tight and stay calm. He'd hoped for an opening in the trail, but before they could reach it Addie had fallen off, and fallen hard.

Patrick takes over the story, still looking a bit stricken, and describes how she laid there motionless at first, not responding to his shouts. Her helmet had remained on, for which he was thankful. He jumped off and secured his horse, then ran to where she laid on her side, her right arm under her body. By then she was groaning; tears started when the shock wore off and her right lower arm began to scream with pain. He checked her over before moving her, concerned for a large bump that was forming on her forehead, and quickly assessed that her arm was likely broken. He was able to sit her up, lean up against a tree and have her rest her back against him, cradling and soothing her until her tears and trembles slowed.

He checked her speech for any slurring, checked her eyes for any changes to her pupils, and crossed his fingers that her head was truly okay. Ripping off his flannel he was able to tear it into a sling, which helped support her arm until they could find help. He was able to get her onto the horse, then himself, and had the horse walk the rest of the way in an attempt to jostle her the least.

Doctors at the hospital examine her thoroughly, and while they agree that there are no clear signs of a concussion, they elect to keep her there for observation long after the cast on her arm has set. Alex stays with us at the hospital, while Tyson goes by horse to search for the other missing horse, which ended up finding its way home by the time he gets there.

Frank and Carrie arrive in a flurry after we were able to reach them. The concern for Addie that I see shining in Carrie's eyes means the world to me. Frank extends his gratitude to Patrick for his care of Addie. Patrick, for his part, is still looking grim and remaining pretty quiet. I see him watching Addie intently more than once, and can see he is still feeling responsible for her despite the rest of our presence, not to mention the hospital staff.

I want to talk to him, but know there will be time for that later and don't want to leave Addie's side. By eight o'clock that evening the doctors feel confident that Addie is fine to be discharged from the hospital, but give a long list of symptoms to watch for. As planned, she goes back to London with her father and Carrie. It's especially hard to say goodbye to her now, but we now plan to go back to London a day prior to our flight to have a little more time together. I know she'll be in good hands with Frank, and that I'm only an hour away if she needs me. Before they leave, she gingerly hugs Patrick with her good arm, thanking him for all he did. We watch as they drive off, before Alex takes Patrick and I back to the farm.

Once we arrive, food takes priority and we share some beers with Tyson and Alex before turning in. Later, when we're settled in bed, our naked bodies tangled together, he finally opens up.

"I've never been so scared in my life, Corrine. When she fell...she looked so small, so helpless. She didn't answer me! I thought..." He lets out a long breath, then continues. "She finally stirred, after ten seconds or so, but it felt like a lifetime."

He turns towards me, his face ashen.

"I don't think I could handle that ever again. It would kill me. How do you do it, Corrine? How do you deal with the worry, with all the bad shit that can happen in this world to kids?" He pauses, and turns back to look at the ceiling.

"Maybe it's best I never had one..."

I roll on top of him, straddling his torso. My heart aches for him.

"Patrick, what you're feeling right now is what every parent feels when their kids have been hurt. It's horrible...you feel helpless to protect them...but you did. You were there. You handled it perfectly, and we are all so grateful. I have no doubt in my mind about you, and neither does Addie, or Luka, for that matter. You handled a really shitty thing, and you will again, and again, if faced with it."

He lets out a sigh. "Yeah, you're right. I feel like I've been punched in the gut, but I'd do it all over again...for you...for her. Anytime. Any day. You can't get rid of me that easily."

He pushes himself up onto his elbows, then gently brushes my hair behind my ears.

"How are you, Corrine? Are you okay?"

"Well, I think today added on a few more grey hairs, but yeah, I'm ok."

I snuggle onto him, my head nested by the soft hairs on his chest. His hand strokes over my lower back, before resting on my bare ass cheeks.

I'm beginning to drift off, when I hear him whisper.

"I love you sweet girl...now and always."

I squeeze my body against him, and with a sleepy voice, whisper back, "My love, my boyfriend, my dom...now and always."

***

Next chapter is the conclusion of Rock and Water.



Rock and Water Ch. 10



Thank you dear readers for your patience and kind words while waiting for this final chapter of Rock and Water. It's been a long road since I posted chapter one, and your comments and emails have shaped me as a writer.

From day one FA_JF was there with her excellent editing skills and insightful suggestions. For this final chapter, I need to thank both Richard North (North200) and the fabulous Brit for their fabulous edits and unwavering friendship.

*****

Three months have passed since our trip to London. Addie has been back in the states with me for the past two - her arm mended and cast removed. I've returned to work after my summer hiatus, and before we know it, days flow into weeks and alone time for Patrick and I becomes few and far between. We'd expected it - planned for it - but neither of us were truly prepared for how little time I would have for him.

I'm a bit worried. This is his first committed relationship to someone with kids, and while he's been great with her, I know the limitations have been difficult for him - they've been hard for me too. 

Although Patrick joins us for dinner twice weekly, even cooking at his place on a few occasions, I've yet to invite him to stay the night. We've shared a few weekends together when Addie goes to visit her grandparents for the weekend, or steal the occasional night or afternoon when she's at a friend's, but much of our time to talk or play occurs over the telephone after she's asleep.

"How are you doing over there, sweetheart?"

I can hear the smile behind the mock concern. "You know damn well how I am... Sir."

While I know I'm tempting fate with the clear derision in my voice, It's difficult to answer sincerely while I'm double penetrated by my largest plug and dildo - my clit teased and tortured for over thirty minutes with no clear answer that I'll be allowed to come.

He remains silent.

I try to lighten the mood a little. "I'm sorry for that, really. My sheets have seen better days, though."

No response.

"Patrick?"

"I'm here. I'm sorry." He pauses briefly, as if weighing his words. "...was just thinking."

My chest clenches a little. HIs voice sounds distant, almost veering towards melancholy. I'm not quite sure what to do, but turn off the vibrator that's been buzzing against my clit. The two toys inside of me suddenly feel tight and awkward.

"Is it anything you'd like to talk about?

He pauses again, then let's out a deep breath. "I don't want to sound like I'm complaining, but I want to be there with you... not on the phone. I'm just going to put it out there - I think Addie could handle it. I think you're underestimating her."

I hear him fumble with the phone for a second, then the sound of him zipping up his pants.

I guess that answers what I should do about the toys.

"Hold on," I say.

Sliding both toys out, I walk them to the bathroom sink. Throwing on my robe, I sit back on the bed, my back against the headboard. I feel empty, and suddenly very cold.

"Patrick, we've talked about this. I want it, too. ...just feel like I need to protect her."

His voice comes out tight. "Protect her from me?"

"No!" I whisper emphatically, but my heart sinks when I admit the truth to myself, and then him. "Well, yes... kind of, but more along the lines of I don't want her to get attached - to love you - until..."

Patrick saves me from saying it out loud - my fear since introducing them.

"...until you know whether I'm going to stick around."

We're both quiet. An unidentifiable anxiety creeps in now that the unspoken has been said, but an iota of relief is sparked too.

"Tell me, Corrine, have I given you the impression that I'm going anywhere?" Before I can answer, he adds more forcefully, "What is it that you want?"

"No, Patrick, you've never wavered. You've always been there for me... for me and Addie..." My voice trails off as I think back to the day in England when Addie fell off her horse while the two were out for a ride. It had terrified him seeing her so helpless, yet he'd taken care of her and the two now seemed to have a bond independent of me. A new realization dawns.

You're not protecting Addie - you're protecting yourself.

"Shit," I groan.

"What's going on, sweet girl?" His voice has softened.

"I think I've been keeping you away at night under the guise of protecting Addie, when it was really me that I was looking out for."

"What are you worried about... shit, I hate having this conversation over the telephone."

"I know, I'm sorry." I pause to gather my thoughts. "Patrick, I love you. I love everything about you and what we have. I'm just... I'm just scared that normal, everyday life with its early nights, hormonal teenagers, and overworked girlfriend are going to bore the hell out of you - and I won't be enough... Not to mention even if you did spend the night I don't know how we'd, um, be kinky?"

Patrick doesn't respond at first, but when he does, his voice is thick with emotion.

"Okay, 'kink' aside, I'll tell you now that yes, I have been bored at times."

My breath catches as I hug the phone closer to my body.

"...and I've been excited, happy, frustrated, and insanely turned on. You've brought some real, tangible feelings back into my life that had been long buried since Maureen. You and Addie, both. As for the kink - It's not going anywhere. We'll make it happen. Hell, a locked door and a good ball gag is all we'll need."

Somehow I'm laughing again. Leave it to Patrick to once again be the eye at the center of my storm.

"Tomorrow night," I state.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday night. I'll talk to Addie in the morning to see how she feels about it - assuming she's okay with it, you can come over for dinner and a movie... and to stay the night."

"I can tell you now that she'll be cool with it, so I'll plan to be over around five - and to make brunch in the morning."

My excitement starts to take over with this new step in our relationship.

"I think I'm going to be too excited to sleep!"

Patrick laughs a little before assuring, "No worries, I know what you'll need to sleep. Grab some clothes pins, the Hitachi, and your paddle. You'll be crashing hard and sleeping in no time.

He was right.

***

No surprise, when I ask Addie at the breakfast table the next morning how she'd feel about Patrick staying the night, I'm met with an eye-roll and an 'It's about time' response.

"Please be serious, Addie," I respond. "I know you like him, but going for hikes or having him over for dinner are very different from having him staying at our house."

To her credit, she appears to think about what I've just said - the light expression that had been on her face now looks more contemplative.

"Are you guys going to get married one day?"

While I'm not surprised that the question is on her mind, it wasn't quite what I'd expected.

"Honestly, sweetheart, I don't know. We may, or we may just stay together without marrying. Not everyone does. Things are good now - really good - but you never know what the future will bring."

Addie looks at the table before quietly mumbling, "Like you and dad."

My heart aches for her. Our divorce forced her to learn some harsh realities sooner than I would have wished.

"Mom, I really miss dad. Before this summer, it seemed okay that I only ever saw him when he'd come to visit every few months - but after living with him again... I... I just really miss having him around."

I scoot my chair next to hers and take her in my arms.

"I can't imagine how hard it's been sweetie. I wish it wasn't this way for you."

Addie looks at me shyly, clearly uncomfortable with what she's about to say. "Well... I was thinking about that and thought of an idea. What if I lived half the year here with you, and half the year with dad and Carrie."

"No!" It flies from my mouth before I can contain it and Addie jerks back as if I've slapped her. Gathering my thoughts as quickly as I can, I try to soften my answer. "Addie, sweetie, I just don't see that happening. Your schooling would be all over the place... and what about your friends?"

She's not buying it.

"They've got schools there, mom, in case you didn't know - and my friends there... I miss them."

I'm trying to hold it together while my mind is screaming that like hell I'd live away from her for six months. I know I can't discount her thoughts though, and muster what sounds like a reasonable response.

"I'll give it some thought, babe. I promise."

She looks at me skeptically, but seems appeased for the moment.

***

The evening goes well, and Addie seems excited to have Patrick over. After dinner, she insists on making the popcorn and picking out the movie. I'm not sure what he was expecting, but relief paints his face when she pulls out 'Lord of the Rings'.

At the end of the film, she gave Patrick a genuine but awkward 'good night' and I walk her to her bedroom.

"I'm really proud of you, Addie. This means a lot to me."

"It's good to see you happy, mom."

She says this as she gives me a quick peck on the cheek and closes her door. She can't know how much those words mean to me. Walking back to the living room, I find it empty except for a message on a scrap of paper.

"Out with the dogs. Back in a bit."

Having Patrick here feels unexpectedly normal, and thoughts of having him in my bed - his body against mine - fills me with nervous excitement and aching happiness. It finally feels like I can have it all... the submission... the love... the family.

It's an unusually warm night for early November and I wait on my front steps for Patrick's return. Eventually he comes into view, but his silhouette under the street lamp starts and stops a few times. As he approaches the house, I can see him in a heated conversation - his jaw rigid as he listens to whomever he's speaking to. I jog up to him and retrieve the two dogs that are coiled around his legs. He looks at me and I can see another emotion beyond the tension. Grief.

I take the boys inside to give him some space to finish his conversation. It's not long before he comes in - closing the door after himself, but standing just inside, looking at his cellphone as if expecting it to ring again.

I approach him and wrap my arms around his waist. He absentmindedly reciprocates, but once I'm in his arms they tighten and he lowers his jaw onto my head.

"What's wrong, sweetie? Who was that?"

He's silent for a few more moments before answering.

"It was Katya."

"Luka's mom? What'd she want this time of night?"

"She doesn't want me to come tomorrow... or anymore."

I pull away from him and half whisper, half scream, "What the fuck?"

"It's her new boyfriend - her new fiancé. He thinks my relationship with Luka is holding back their own from forming. He seems like a good guy, and I think his intentions are good, but this is so fucked. She also mentioned they may be moving to Southern California to be closer to his kids."

Patrick's voice caught on his last words, and my heart aches for him. His hold on me is almost crushing, but we stay like this for a few minutes in silence until I feel his body relax and he backs away. When I look up, his eyes are wet and he's wiping them with his sleeve.

I attempt to console him.

"Sweetheart, I don't know what to say except that you were there when he needed you the most. You made a real difference in his life and nothing can change the bond you share. Is she at least going to let you say goodbye?"

He nods. "Yeah. She said I could come by their house one night next week. I have to make him something before then..." His voice is distant, as if his thoughts were already in his workshop, planning what to make for Luka.

We walk into the bedroom and I lock the door. While Addie had assured me she'd knock, I don't want to take any chances. The mood is sober as we go through the motions of getting ready for bed. My room is drafty, so I leave my panties on, then slip into an old tee-shirt. From across the room Patrick has been removing his clothes until he's bare, and when he sees me dressing he shakes his head.

"No, Corrine... no clothes. I need to feel you against me."

Just seeing his lean, muscled form with the beautiful ink along his torso and arms causes every nerve in my body to spark. His cock, while not hard, arouses me regardless. When my gaze travels to his face, though, pain still radiates from his normally bright blue eyes. All I want to do is comfort him - to help him forget the pain, if just for one night.

Removing my tee-shirt as I walk towards him, I'm intent on bringing Patrick pleasure, to help him bear his sadness, if just a little. When I'm standing in front of him, I move to kneel but his right arm embraces me as his left tilts my chin upwards. His lips find mine and the kiss is both passionate and emotional - his tongue penetrates me and searches for my own, the contact makes my head spin and my legs weak.

Without releasing my lips, he pulls me to the bed. We separate just enough for him to position me on my back in the center of the bed, before he lays himself on top of me - full skin to skin contact. We resume kissing as his arms and legs straddle me. I feel completely enveloped and consumed by him and I only want to give him more.

I break our kiss to whisper in his ear, "Please, Patrick. Let me take care of you tonight."

Resting on his elbows, his face leans down to nuzzle my ears and neck, sending goosebumps shivering down my skin.

"How would you like to please me, pet?"

My body ignites as he uses the endearment he only recently introduced. The first time he'd called me 'pet', I'd been surprised by how loved and revered it made me feel. Had he used it early in our relationship, I suspect I may have bristled at the implied ownership and docile subservience - but through his love and guidance, I've learned so much about what submission truly means to me. The level of trust, acceptance, and love I feel in this relationship has moved beyond any that I've ever experienced before, and when I give myself to him - mind, body, and spirit - I know he feels the same love and trust that I do.

"Sir, I would like to pleasure your body - your whole body - until you come. I would like you to let go... to just accept and enjoy."

His bright blue eyes look down on me with love, but there's a heat in them that pushes me further. I gently push against his chest, scooting myself out from under him.

"Lay down on your front - and wait for me here."

Rather than the amusement I suspected he might respond with, Patrick just smiles a sexy grin and nods before turning himself over, resting on his stomach in the center of the bed. I grab a few things from my toy bag and lay them beside the bed, out of his view.

I remove my panties and crawl on top of him, straddling his hips. My exposed sex pressed hard against his lower back. Before I start, I allow myself to reach behind and run my hands over the contours of his firm ass. Once I've allowed myself to enjoy them fully, I pour a small amount of cedarwood and sage massage oil over his upper back, then lean down and murmur into his ear.

"May I be the first to tell you that all of those squats I see you doing at the gym are working for you."

Patrick chuckles from below me. It's nice to hear him relaxing after his phone call with Katya. He turns his head back, about to reply, but I've started on his shoulders and all that comes out of his mouth is a long groan.

Taking my time, I massage his back, neck, temples, and scalp with strong fingers and a fair amount of upper body strength. The knots in his back gradually reduce as his breathing slows. I'd think he was asleep except for the occasional moan of appreciation when I work on a particularly pleasurable region.

I scoot back, encouraging him to spread his legs so I can kneel between them. Beginning with his left leg, I slick my hands with the oil and start with his foot - sensuously massaging the arches and each individual digit. In no rush, I move to his firm calf and work my palm into the tight tissue, feeling it eventually give and relax before moving onto his thigh. Patrick is silent now - almost in a meditative state. I move to his right leg and make sure it gets the same treatment the left did. 

Moving forward again, I situate myself on my knees between his upper thighs. I lean down and begin to kiss and gently suck, alternating between his two firm ass cheeks. I run my hands down his sides, over his lean waist until they rest on his hips. My lips travel closer and closer to the snug crevasse of his ass - my tongue licks the sensitive margins in long, firm strokes. I feel him tense just a little, so I splay my fingers over each side and spread him.

"Corrine..." His voice is barely a breath.

I revere this man, and want to show him there is not a part of him that I don't want to pleasure. I begin to trace just the tip of my tongue along the now exposed skin, staying away just yet from my intended target. I sense a shiver run through him as his skin vibrates under my hands. Alternating soft kisses with strokes of my tongue, Patrick's body relaxes beneath me. I love that I'm bringing the man that does so much for me to such heights of pleasure, and I only want to give him more.

While my hands begin to squeeze his well-muscled butt cheeks, my tongue dips to the tight erogenous ring and all of its sensitive nerve-endings.

"Ooooh," he sighs, as my tongue licks and probes the entrance. His hips move, but only to grind himself into the bed. I can only imagine how desperately hard his cock must be. I smile briefly as my fingers split him even wider and my tongue pushes deep inside of him - my nose pressing hard against the skin just above. I wiggle and spear it in and out. His breathing becomes interspersed with gasps and I know I can push him further.

"Up on your knees, love - spread them for me."

In a trance he obeys my wishes, giving his body over to me. This does not undermine the tightly coiled power I feel radiating from him, it only makes it that much better that he would allow himself to be vulnerable and exposed to my desires.

"Oh, Patrick... You are so fucking hard," I admire as his swollen, crimson cock comes into view. On my own hands and knees, I lower myself below him and suck on just the head, as if to milk him dry of the pre-cum that had started to bead at the slit. He slowly pushes his hips forward, fucking my mouth deep. I allow him this moment of control, but only briefly before I pull away.

I pour a copious dollop of massage oil into my palm, then rub my hands and fingers together, coating them well. I kneel next to him, facing his receptive, hard body. With my left hand I cup my fingers around the base of his cock, stroking firmly up and down the shaft while also turning my hand slightly with each rise and fall. My thumb curls over the slick head, ensuring not an inch of skin is left untouched.

I love the way the soft skin moves over the hard steel that lies beneath - how it twitches and pulses under my grip. My right hand moves behind him, gliding over the slope of his ass before curving the fingers towards the center. He arches his back, just enough to allow a natural chasm to open. I move the tip of my third finger over the tight ring, circling over it - lubricating the entrance. I know how good this feels, and am rewarded by some quick jerks of his cock within my grasp.

Once it's nice and slick, I push in just the first digit - surprised by how easily it slips in. While I know Patrick enjoys playing with my third hole, he's recently admitted that while he was open to it, no woman in his past had ever been interested in pleasuring him this way. I have no experience performing on a man, but I know what I enjoy and what I've read that men enjoy. I play with just the ring for a couple of minutes - moving in and out only by one or two knuckles at a time, occasionally slipping a second finger in too.




Rock and Water Ch. 10



The tight band of muscle begins to relax, and my fingers begin to explore deeper. I know what I'm searching for, I just don't know if I'll know what it is when I feel it - so I'm delighted when I feel a slight bulge slip beneath my fingertips.

"Ah, fuck!" Patrick's voice is almost strangled as my fingers begin to rub back and forth over his prostate. I can tell he's trying to keep his voice down as best as he can. His already rock-hard cock seems to thicken in my hand, his balls drawing up tight between his legs.

"I can't... I can't last long," he gasps as my fingers move in a steady rhythm over the incredibly erogenous gland. Pre-cum is dripping from the tip of his cock, mixing with the massage oil creating wet, slick sounds as I pump his cock. His body bucks and jerks as cum goes flying at incredible velocity out of him, splattering the bed and even his own arms that are just barely supporting him now. I slow the motions of both hands, but don't stop until the last drops escape him. Removing my fingers, and slipping my hand from his still hard shaft, I lean over him, kissing his sweaty back.

He remains quiet, staying on his hands and knees with his head down - chest heaving.

Finally he speaks. "There's no other words for that than 'mind-blowing', Corrine. My fucking heart was slamming in my chest... never come so hard in my life."

I'm just beaming - excited to discover a new and clearly powerful way to please him. I don't get to celebrate long, though, when Patrick rises and flips me over onto my back and lands on top of me - his hands press my wrists into the bed.

His lips meet mine in a long, lingering kiss that sends molten heat through me. I'm about to joke about where my mouth just was, when I remember how many times he's rimmed me and I shrug it off.

He lifts his head and l just can't stop smiling.

"You're pretty damned pleased with yourself, aren't you sweetie?"

"Yup!" My smile grows even wider.

"Well, I'm pretty pleased with you too, my love. You took me somewhere I've never been - thank you."

My smile drops at his sincerity. Reaching up, I brush his errant hair from his forehead before placing my palm on his cheek.

"Patrick, you've taken me to that place so many times. Every day with you I learn something new - feel something new."

"That's very mutual. I've always prided myself on my autonomy - but I have to confess that days away from you are getting harder and harder."

I nod in agreement, but don't know quite how to answer to that. It's just too soon and too complicated to consider moving in with each other just yet. Patrick rolls off and lies next to me - heat radiating from his skin. We lay in silence for a few minutes before he speaks again.

"Addie seemed fine with it all tonight."

"She did, Patrick. She really likes you."

He goes silent, and I suspect he's thinking about Luka again as he absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down my arm. I move to rest my head on his chest, until I feel how damp it is.

"Um..., shower?"

"I suppose I'm pretty ripe by now."

"No, just soggy."

He laughs before leaning over and tweaking my nipple.

"How've you been enjoying that new shower head?"

Best shower ever. 

"I think you know quite well considering you tried each setting on me the first night."

Memories of how long he'd edged me - was it three, four, five times? - make me shudder. My pussy and clit had grown over sensitive to the point of pain while I begged him to let me orgasm. When he did, he held the spray of water on me with one hand while the other delivered a series of wet, hard slaps to my ass until I collapsed to the floor trembling - the ripples of my orgasm caused spasms through my pussy and belly for minutes to come.

We make it to the shower, where Patrick is surprisingly gentle with me. Using his fingers, lips, and of course, the shower head, he drives me to an achingly long and deeply intense climax that left me sated and sleepy.

The next morning, Addie acted as if Patrick had slept over countless times. After taking the dogs to the park, the three of us went to brunch. She was surprisingly mature and sympathetic with the news about Luka, and suggested that at the very least his mother may allow him and Patrick to remain pen-pals.

***

"Do you know a Marilyn Morris?"

I'd just answered my phone and these were the first words out of my agent's mouth.

"Yeah, I know Marilyn. We worked together briefly years ago. She's been with Minnesota public radio for years now. Is she back in town?"

Peter's voice holds barely contained excitement, a rarity for him.

"No, she's not. In fact, she's starting a new show with PRI in London. Corrine, she wants you there."

My heart starts thumping and I can't seem to get my mouth to work.

"Did you hear me? She wants you to be the voice of the show. It's going to be a little less politics and news than you're used to, leaning more towards human interest, but shit, you've gotta' do this!"

"Oh..."

"That's all you can say? Corrine, this is a life changer! This is huge!"

A whirlwind of factors hit me all at once. Addie... my home... my life... Patrick.

"Wow, Peter. I don't know what to say! I loved working with her when she produced my first show. I can't... I just can't believe this."

"Call her. She's waiting to hear from you. Just reach her at the Minneapolis office."

Still in a daze, I barely squeak out an answer. "Um, okay - I will."

Peter hangs up and I sit in my car just in front of my house, trying to slow my thoughts down.

Addie would love to live in London - hell, she's already asked to - and Frank and Carrie are there. She'd have both parents. Working with Marilyn again would be amazing - it seemed like every program she had her hands in succeeded - many of which had won awards over the years.

I can't help but let out a choked sob, though, when I think of Patrick. We've only just started less than a year ago - there's no way we could hope to survive a long distance relationship, and I can't expect him to abandon a business that he loves to follow me over there.

Fuck!

I go back into the house, forgetting why I'd gone out to the car in the first place. Addie is just home from school and Skyping with her dad. It's after eleven in London, but he stays up frequently to help her with her homework. I watch on as the two talk through a school project she's been working on. I give her a smile and Frank a brief wave before going into the bedroom to call Marilyn.

***

The following Sunday, the three of us spend the afternoon with Luka and his family at Oaks Park, an ancient amusement park with old time carnival games and rides that look like they're about to fall off their tracks. It's official that they'll be moving to California in two weeks, but Luka's mom has agreed that they can write to each other.

Luka loved the drafting table that Patrick had made for him, hoping to encourage his love of graphic arts. Katya's fiancee keeps his distance most of the day, but the impression I get is that he's allowing the two to enjoy their last day together. At the end of the day he shakes Patrick's hand firmly, assuring him that he'll be a good dad to Luka - for him not to worry.

I try and fail not to cry as Patrick and Luka say their goodbyes. They remain embraced for close to minute while Addie and I cling to each other for support. I wonder whether Patrick may need some alone time this evening - I also wonder when and how to discuss my own news with him. In the end, he suggests take-out Thai and a game night.

I've known for the past three days that the move to London will probably take place . It's as if all the stars aligned for it to happen. My contract is up for renegotiation at the end of the year which is only two and one half months away, the position in London will not only come with more exposure, but also a hefty raise in pay, and Frank was out of his head ecstatic when I told him the news. When I told Addie last night, she actually started crying she was so happy. We talked frankly about how it may feel to live in another country - about missing her friends and grandparents in Portland - but also told her it wasn't necessarily forever. Depending on how the show is received, the contract I'm negotiating will be for four years.

I stressed to Addie that I'd yet to tell Patrick. She looked stricken when she realized the move may potentially break us up and began backpedalling about going. I told her that while I love Patrick with all of my heart, I can't ignore all the good that could come to our lives with this move.

Unfortunately, while playing Monopoly, Patrick attempts to engage an unusually quiet Addie, bombarding her with questions about her London friends and whether she'll be going back next summer. I regret immediately asking her to keep secrets from him, and by the conflicted look on her face I can tell she's struggling to keep silent about our move.

"Addie, can you give Patrick and I some time alone?"

She eagerly nods and dodges from the table to her room in obvious relief.

Patrick watches with growing unease in his eyes.

I stand and extend my hand to him. "Can we go talk on the back deck?"

He doesn't follow suit when I grab for my glass of red wine, but does take my hand as we walk in silence outside.

What's going on, Corrine? Why does my gut feel like its twisting before I even know what you're going to say?"

"I've...I've been offered a new show with Public Radio International."

He looks surprised, but cautiously positive.

"PRI? That's great!"

"In London."

His hold on my hand slackens, but does not let go. Patrick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath - remaining silent for longer than makes me comfortable.

"That's wonderful, sweetheart... Well deserved." He looks down at our hands, his thumb idly rubs against my palm. "When?"

My body becomes tingly and numb as our conversation continues. It feels both surreal and devastatingly real at the same time - like a dream where you're falling and don't know when or if you'll be hitting the ground.

"We'd move over winter break to allow Addie to settle in before the school-year resumes."

Patrick drops my hand and runs his palms over his face. When he looks up at me again, he doesn't take my hand back.

"What do you want to do then... about us?"

I kneel down on the ground in front of him, grasping his hands from his lap. "I want us to be together... I... I can't imagine being apart from you!"

Tears bead in the corners of my eyes when faced with the very real prospect of losing a man that has become as crucial to my life as air and water. He reaches forward and wipes an errant tear with his thumb.

Twice he looks like he's about to say something, before stopping himself.

"Fuck... Fuck! I don't know what to fucking say Corrine. I'm happy for you. Proud of you - but this is tough. The easy thing to say would be I'll move there too, start a new business, but it's not that easy. My life is here - my friends, my business, my cabin - I've never considered leaving. I thought... I thought we'd be here together... as a family."

My voice is a whisper when I respond. "I thought so too."

"Will you be coming back?"

Again, I struggle with my words. "Probably? I don't know. The contract is for four years."

Patrick flinches as if I've punched him in the gut.

His voice is tight - his eyes tense. "Four years?"

I nod. Gripping his hands even tighter, even though they remain placid in his lap. His voice is flat when he continues.

"Selling the house?"

I think about the gorgeous custom kitchen he just designed for me, but nod.

"Probably not the first year - in case things don't work out - but it'll be too difficult to manage from over there."

Patrick starts to discuss pragmatics - about the strong rental market and his friend that manages rental properties - but I'm barely listening. I just watch on as an invisible wall begins to build between us.

Eventually we go inside. I half expect him to leave for his own house, but he stays. We brush our teeth next to each other, but he feels a million miles away. Stripped, we get into bed and resume our automatic go to position of him on his back with my head on his chest. It feels good to have his arm around me, holding me tight against him.

"Corrine, I really am happy for you - this is just a lot to take in." He pauses, then looks down at me, capturing my eyes. "I bet Addie is ecstatic."

I nod. "She is. She really is... Frank, too."

"Yes, I imagine he is."

After that brief exchange, we both fall silent, but even thirty minutes later neither of us are sleeping. I begin to ramble a string of consciousness.

"It's doable, Patrick. I'll fly back as often as I can. You can visit us... Tyler and Alex too. I can come home over the summer for a bit - a few weeks at least. I..."

"Shhhh... Just relax. We're not over. I just need to think."

I'm not sure why hearing him say 'we're not over' makes me even more depressed - as if it was qualified with 'yet'. He kisses the top of my head and I know it's time to quiet my mind and try to sleep. My gut feels raw and my heart is aching - I have no idea how sleep will come.

***

Two weeks go by. They're busy ones for us both. He's working on a bar remodel in a restaurant, and can only get in there during early morning or late night hours. My station is scrambling to find my replacement and while I'm plugging for one of my writers to take it on, they insist that outside applicants be screened and interviewed - this on top of my normal work load. We see each other just a few times, with only two sleepovers, both of them at my house since Addie hasn't gone anywhere. This weekend, though, she'll be at my parents who are also reeling from the news - although as faithful public radio listeners, they're already enjoying the bragging rights of my new position with their friends.

Griffin and I arrive at Patrick's house Friday evening - bags packed for the weekend. He's out when I arrive, so I let us in with a key he gave me a while back. Guinness bounces and runs circles around us, so I take the two out back and throw a stick for a while. Back in the house, I see a text on my phone from Patrick.

Take a shower. Clean yourself well - very well. Plug and lube are on the bed. Use them. A dozen clothespins are also there. Use them too. Cuffs and collar already attached to bedroom door frame. Secure yourself facing the bedroom. I'll be home in the next hour. I want you there and waiting for me. No touching yourself.

I'm a bit incredulous. We haven't delved into power exchange in weeks, and it feels odd when there's still so much to discuss. The topic of my move was neither avoided nor sought out - it was just there. Frank and Carrie found a small house for me not to far from theirs, or Addie's new school. It's smaller than my current one, and outrageously expensive, but between my new salary and moving expenses being covered, it's just perfect.

I realize how asexual I've been feeling - consumed by stress and worry over the looming move, new job, and the uncertainty of my relationship with Patrick. I look at the text again, and the faintest pulse between my legs begins to manifest. My tongue darts out to moisten my suddenly dry lower lip, sending tingles through me. Oh, yes. I'm ready for this.

Looking at the time, I realize the text came while I was outside with the dogs and fifteen minutes have already passed.

"Shit!"

My shower is fast, thorough, and efficient. Already shaved, I clean myself well - using two fingers and gentle soap to ensure my asshole is squeaky clean. I wash my hair too, and after toweling dry pull it back off my face in a simple ponytail. Trotting into the bedroom, listening for him, I find on the bed the largest plug in his collection, along with lube.

Damnit.

This is going to hurt. It's been a while since he's fucked my ass - he knows this.

I lube it and my tight hole generously before leaning over the bed and pushing it slowly in. It doesn't slip in easily, and it hurts, but I need it in quickly so I twist it side to side, working it inch by inch, in and out, until it pops past the resistant ring. My belly cramps for a few moments. I allow myself to lean down over the bed until it passes, fighting the urge to play with my clit and pussy which always smoothes the transition from pain to pleasure.

Once my body adapts to the large intrusion, I rise and feel it shift within me - making me acutely aware of it's presence. Stress and anxiety slowly ebb as my focus shifts to the sensations stirring within my body, along with the serenity of knowing that all I have to do is obey. As I reach for the bag of clips, it occurs to me that this is just what I need - which no doubt Patrick already knew.

I pull out twelve of the wooden clothespins. He didn't assign where I should put them, but I know he would want me to challenge myself. He knows my most sensitive spots - the ones that take so long for the initial pain to recede, and even longer when the clips are removed. I spread my legs, pinch a small amount of skin in my inner thigh, just above my left knee, and attach a peg.

Oh, fuck.

Already just one clip in I feel screaming pain shoot up my leg. Before stopping to think, I place another higher up in the same inner thigh. I start to pant and do my best to keep my leg still. Even the slightest jerk of my leg make the pegs swing and achieve new levels of pain. Quickly I place two more on my other thigh. I realize the mistake of starting with my legs, as I have to walk a few steps to the bed to reach the remaining clothespins. In rapid succession now, I grab four more, clipping two on either side of my waist.

"Ow! Shit!" I try not to dance around, I really try, but it feels like twenty bees are stinging where each clip is attached. The burn and ache radiate deep inside of me, but my focus turns to my pussy which I can feel swelling and getting very, very wet. I've stopped questioning my body's response to erotic pain. My lust and hunger are high now, and I know I'd withstand forty more clips at this point if he asked me to. 

Lastly, I clip two on the undersides of each arm - on the pale white baby-soft skin. Tears well in my eyes while involuntary gasps escape me. I muse that I didn't clip any traditionally erogenous zones - nipples, cunt lips, clit - but I know that Patrick will be pleased. I eye the doorway, and gingerly walk myself over, keeping my legs spread to avoid knocking the pegs. It hurts like hell.

Along with velcro ankle and wrist cuffs secured to keep my legs spread and my arms lifted and separate, there is a velcro collar with an O-ring in the front. The attached rope, coming from an almost invisible hook above the doorway, is long enough that should I fall there's no way I could be choked.

I secure myself, tremble, and wait. The house is warm - my shivers are purely from anticipation and arousal. I'm not waiting long when I hear his Bronco pull up the driveway, the dogs barking, then the front door opening and closing. I wonder if he'll keep me waiting, but instead I hear him running up the stairs, taking two at a time but slowing as I must be coming into view. He walks up behind me - I can feel the heat from his body just inches from mine - but neither of us say a word.

My body is screaming for his touch... anywhere. I just need his hands on me. In answer to my silent plea, I feel his palms rest on my bare ass cheeks - the heat from them sears into my skin as I press against him. They don't squeeze, or pinch, they just remain there... owning the flesh under them. Slowly they move up my sides until they come to a rest cupping the weight of my breasts. I take in a trembling breath as again they lay their claim. Next, one hand travels to my wet and swollen cunt, covering it entirely without entering it. The other hand slides upwards until it reaches the collar, then rests over it and around the front of my neck. He doesn't squeeze, but the symbolism of my vulnerability is clear.




Rock and Water Ch. 10



Patrick continues his silent, gentle journey over my body - tapping each clip enough to awaken the nerves that had slumbered. I stifle a groan as my body absorbs the pain for him. While he loves my groans and cries, I know through my silence I'm showing acceptance of his command over me. Like an object, he undoes my left ankle and wrist cuffs, shifts me away from the door to gain entrance to the room, then secures me once again. His eyes watch mine as he takes the slack from the collar loop, pulling it until my head could only potentially move a few centimeters in any direction, before securing it.

I'm completely immobile. The new sensation of the collar adds to my helplessness and my body responds by leaking juices over my inner thighs. It no longer surprises me when my body responds in this manner to pain and vulnerability.

"How long have the clips been on?"

"Only about twenty minutes."

He nods, then surprises me by dropping to his knees in front of me. Avoiding the clips on my thighs, he runs two fingers along my slit, splitting the folds as they skim back and forth over my pussy. Slick, wet sounds resound through the room - accompanied by my increased breathing. His hot breath moves over my flesh, occasionally inhaling deeply to take in my essence. Palm outward, he pushes two fingers deep inside my wet cunt, but pulls out just enough to rub against the puffy bundle of nerves. My cunt walls clamp down on him as I can't decide if I have to pee or orgasm. It's all too intense and fast. His thumb pushes hard against my clit and moves rhythmically over the hood, pushing it into the bone below.

"Oh, Patrick, I'm going to come!"

In quick succession the two pegs on my inner right thigh are removed and tossed to the ground. Blinding pain surges through me as the nerve endings awaken and blood flow returns to the deprived flesh. My orgasm eludes me as my body processes the pain, but quickly the urgency arises when he pulls my cunt lips apart with his fingers and uses his tongue to explore every fold and valley. The tip of his tongue becomes firm, nudging against my clit like a finger - up and down, side to side. Juices soak his lips and chin as my climax screams for release. Just in time, and eagerly anticipated, he removes the clips from my left thigh.

"Ow...shit...motherfucker...!"

Patrick looks up at me in amusement, his mouth never leaving its claim on my pussy - quite a feat considering I'm dancing on my toes as fire scorches the tortured flesh. While pain often tips me over the edge, tonight it continues to push me off the crest and leave me free-falling in a zone between pleasure and anguish. My head whips around - the fabric of the collar a constant reminder that I am in his hands - vulnerable to his will.

Once I've recovered, just barely, Patrick changes his tactic by sucking my swollen clit deep between his lips - the touch of his teeth towards the base, trapping the already engorged nub, causes my knees to buckle and my weight be almost completely supported by my arms. The rope attached to my collar gives just enough to prevent any struggle to breathe.

Patrick's mouth is consuming me as it never has before - his tongue penetrating my cunt, fucking it, his lips sucking, teeth biting and pulling. Every nerve in my body needs to release - I need to scream and shout and cry. He reaches up with both hands, removing all of the clips rapidly, from under my arms to down my sides. Pain ignites over the surface of my skin, penetrating into the deeper tissues, colliding with the ball of heat and pleasure rising from my core. When they hit, I'm thrown into an orgasm that threatens to obliterate all of my other senses. Blackness overtakes my visual field and my own screams sound far in the distance as wave after wave of energy and ecstasy blast through my body.

I'm barely aware that he's back on his feet, holding me close against his hard form. I feel weightless and lightheaded as he removes my bindings and carries me to the bed. My body is pliant and receptive as he positions me as he wishes. I'm on my knees resting my belly over two pillows. Arms extended, he binds them together in rope, fastening them together to a carabiner on his headboard. My thighs are spread - attached to ankle cuffs arising from the base of the bed, on either side.

My mind slips into such a peaceful place - where the air between us feels alive and charged and where nothing but feeling him inside my holes will complete me. My body relaxes and becomes open to however he wants to take his pleasure. I hear the familiar buzz - from the smaller vibe in his collection - behind me as the weight on the bed shifts. The heat of his body emanates against mine as he moves between my legs. The vibe begins to run over my soaking, puffy folds - collecting fluid before slipping over my sensitive clitoris.

"Sweet little slut... just look at you. Tied and bound, holes open and greedy to be filled." His voice becomes deeper, more introspective. "If only I could keep you here in my home, in the city that I love." The vibe runs through my folds once more before the tip begins to play against my anal ring, which twitches and clenches in response. In one smooth push, the well lubricated, vibrating toy slips easily inside and quickly ignites my need once more.

"...but everything that I love about you - your ambition, your intelligence... your devotion to Addie - threaten to take you away from me, and I can't let that happen."

My breath catches. I'm trying to listen to every word - fighting for clarity as his cock thrusts deep inside my pussy and both holes are stretched and vibrating from the anal vibe.

"Patrick...," I gasp out. I want to hear his words and my skull feels likes it's filled cotton-balls while all my blood surges to my pelvis.

He leans down and bites my neck - hard. My body bucks against him, driving him deeper.

"You haven't asked me to come to London with you, Corrine. I don't know if out of some fallacy that it's too soon for us to make such a big move, or whether you're considering starting a new life there - I don't think that's it, though. I don't believe in soulmates, but I do believe in us - and goddamn it, we're too good to let it go."

His hips grind slowly against my backside as he talks, he feels impossibly deep within me, stirring every nerve and pleasure zone.

"I... I want you there, Patrick." I want to continue, but he's reached under me and is rubbing small, soft circles around my clit.

"I know you do, love - and I'm going. Nothing could keep me away."

I can't stop the tears that flood my eyes and run down my cheeks. The myriad of emotions shooting through my brain threaten to collapse me, and I'm thankful for the bonds and pillows that support me. Before I can answer, Patrick intensifies his hold - one arm wrapped tight around my waist as the other hand continues to focus on the bundle of nerves between my legs, rubbing, pinching and pulling on it as his hips slam into me with brutal intensity. Initially his strokes are long, almost to the point of pulling out altogether, but soon he's fully seated - his body pressed firmly against my backside. His full body lunges against my ass pushing me into the pillows below - I brace my elbows against the sheets as best as I can. The sounds in the room are primal - wet slaps in tandem with gasps and curses.

He's coming to London.

It's that thought that propels my orgasm over the edge. My heart slams in my chest as exquisite sensations light up my body inside and out. He's holding out and continues to fuck me like he's trying to open me up and crawl inside. It hurts and I love that it hurts. I love his brutality. I love his need to consume me. I love his unwavering devotion. I love his love.

When he comes, he comes hard. His voice cracks and chokes as his cum pulses deep into me. The walls of my pussy sting from the friction, and the vibrations in my ass continue to make my tight passage spasm and twitch. As he pulls out, he removes and turns off the vibe at the same time, tossing it on the floor. Cum and my own fluids begin to leak down my thighs - I've grown to love this moment.

He remains collapsed over me, cocooning me as he kisses the back of my neck and shoulders.

So much love.

Reaching over me, he releases my wrists from the rope binding them, then goes to the end of the bed to remove the ankle cuffs. My body is limp - I remain loosely draped over the pillows supporting me. He jumps off the bed and trots to the bathroom, returning with a warm, wet cloth. He cleans my inner thighs and gently cleans over my tender pussy lips.

Patrick gently encourages me to rise enough for him to remove the pillows, but holds me up to prevent me from collapsing. With the same care, he rolls me onto my back and pulls the covers over us both. Lying on his side next to me, he idly caresses my face.

"You're coming to London." Saying it out loud makes the reality of the news come to life.

"Yes. I'll be a couple months behind you two while I finish up my current projects, but I'll come out at least once during that time."

"Your business... your cabin."

"The nice thing about being a craftsmen, is that my business goes where I go. There may be times I'll need to come back here for some of my clients, but honestly, I'm itching to do some bar restorations in some pubs over there. As far as the cabin goes, Vanessa and Gil have offered to look after it."

"Wow... you've got this all worked out. What about your house?" I wave my arm around the room.

"Marc."

"The bartender?" I can actually say his name now without blushing at the thought of him. We've been to the Market enough times now that memories of my pre-Patrick makeup session with him have become a distant, although still pleasant, memory.

"Yup. He's always coveted the place, and he was the first person I thought of. It's the plan, anyway, for the indefinite future. Should we stay in London past your contract I'll consider selling."

I process what he's telling me - he's thinking of years from now. I can't believe this is really happening. My happiness is soaring out of me and I continue to ply him with question after question.

"Your bike?"

"Oh, that's getting shipped. There are miles and miles of unexplored roads for us to explore."

Eventually we get up to do what needs to be done - let the dogs out, eat a snack, brush teeth. Back in bed, we're both quiet. I'm curled into him, my head on his chest. His breathing becomes deep and slow, and I'm sure he's fallen asleep when he quietly speaks.

"I want to marry you, Corrine. I want to be family. Do you... will you marry me? It doesn't have to be soon, I know you've got so much happening - the move, the new job - but I really ho..."

I cut him off by jumping on top of him, straddling his waist and claiming his lips.

"Yes, Patrick! Yes! I would love to be yours - I'm already yours."

"God I fucking love you woman."

He turns me over and the two of us make slow, lazy love long into the night. I'm still sore from earlier, my pussy as raw as our emotions but as I think about life before him, the hurt is so much better than feeling nothing at all.

***

"Clothes off, slut."

No sooner had Addie left for a week with Frank and Carrie than Patrick takes me by surprise with his order. My body responds before I find my voice - my blood feels warmer as it tracks through my veins, my skin suddenly prickly, needing to be touched.

"Yes, Sir."

It's been three years since we moved to London. There were growing pains, especially between Addie and Patrick, until they found a good balance. The flat Frank had initially found for us was way too small for three people, although the house we're in isn't much better. Luckily, it has a finished basement with its own bathroom - perfect for my now teenager who wants her "space".

My radio show went through some growing pains too - early on it was close to being cancelled but they changed the time of day and modified the scope to primarily focus on health and wellness and since then it's bloomed. Most amusing was when I was encouraged to "investigate" the BDSM lifestyle due to its reported mental health benefits.

Patrick and Luka have had regular, but sporadic, contact since we've arrived. His new father won't allow for Skyping, but emails seem to be okay.

Both dogs are here too. Griffin and Guinness have found their own balance, and their own beds. It's a lot of dog for a little space, but when we take them out to visit Tyler and Alex on most of our weekends, the two go absolutely nuts, often needing the week to recover before heading out again.

Our toys, ropes, and anything that we'd prefer Addie not to come across are safely locked in a small closet in our bedroom. Patrick has learned to improvise without the built in hooks he had grown accustomed to throughout his house - which incidentally were quickly found by Marc who assured Patrick he'd already made good use of them.

Summer is only a few months off, as is our wedding at Tyler and Alex's farm. It'll be small, mostly family traveling from the states, along with Johanna and her husband, Gil and Vanessa. Frank and Carrie, who married two years ago and have become good friends to us will also be there. It's difficult to imagine that I'll feel any more committed to him with the piece of paper that will bind us - I already feel that I belong to him, as he belongs to me.

I was still in the foyer when he told me to get naked, so without delay I remove my clothes there and wait for further instruction. His pale-blue eyes peruse my body slowly - I can almost feel his scrutiny against my skin. Initially his expression is relaxed... but standing there before me I see the subtle shift. His jawline hardens, his eyes darken. My cunt begins to pulse between my legs, the lips becoming wet and puffy.

"Follow me. On your knees."

My eyes widen and I don't move. In all of our years together, he's never asked me to crawl. It was never a limit for me, nor something I ever particularly craved. Years ago, during my phone relationship with Robert, he would instruct me to crawl - overall, I haven't missed it.

Patrick looks at me intently, gauging my lack of response. Calmly he walks over, standing before me with a warm but unreadable expression. He reaches forward, and just when I think he's not going to enforce his directive and embrace me instead, he places his palms over my shoulders and presses down, encouraging me to the floor. Once there, without words he pushes my upper back forward until I'm resting on my hands and knees.

"Follow."

My cheeks redden as naked I crawl behind him into the living room. Each contact my bare knees make with the hardwood floor only amplifies my feelings of subordination and surrender. It's making me very, very excited. My breasts sway under me - my nipples growing tight and sensitive. Cool air contacts my exposed folds, confirming that I'm wet just from this small act of submission.

"Up on the rug - then stay."

I crawl onto the Kilim rug just in front of the couch, then wait. I sneak a glance up just as he's leaving he room. Not sure when he'll return, I remain in position - although it's difficult not to squeeze and rub my thighs tighter - my swollen pussy aches for any contact. To keep myself in line, I spread my thighs to prevent any more stimulation. I hear Patrick return and approach me from behind. The sounds of his footsteps stop and for a moment there is just silence.

"What a beautiful view my little fuckslut. Your cunt and tight ass presented to me - those sweet holes inviting me to use them and fill them - to own them."

My body shudders with lust at his words. He knows I love to feel objectified - to be reduced to a toy for his pleasure. Two fingers swipe back and forth through my cunt lips - wet, slippery sounds fill the quiet room. He paints my exposed asshole with my own juices, not penetrating me yet still stimulating the ring of nerves until involuntarily my body pushes against him. The hand pulls back strikes both cheeks with one hard slap - my entire body jerks forward from the pain and surprise.

"You know better than that, slut. Remain still."

I hope I haven't blown it and he goes back to using his fingers on me, but apparently I have. He passes by me, approaching the couch. I can hear him deposit a few items before he returns to me.

"Up on your knees, back straight, eyes forward."

His voice is crisp, alert, and in command. The confidence in his command makes it easier for me to turn myself over to him. I rise up until I'm on my knees and looking straight ahead.

"Lace your fingers behind your head."

This is a very sexy position. It lifts and pushes my soft breasts with their rosy peaks up and forward in offering to him. In my peripheral vision, he approaches me a large amount of crimson-red rope which I've never seen before. It catches my eyes and I can't help but stare at its beauty.

Patrick kneels in front of me - he looks as in awe with the rope as I am. He pulls it from his shoulder and holds it in front of me.

"Go ahead...touch it."

I smile eagerly at him before running my fingers over rope. It's soft and pliable - not stiff at all. Patrick has always collected the finest rope, but this one looks and feels more sensual than any before.

He takes his time, appearing almost meditative as he begins a series of intricate knots and ties around my chest. My elbows remain raised and my fingers interlaced behind my head - only now they are bound that way. The rope binds my breast above and below, crossing between them until the flesh bulges forward. The building pressure within the confined flesh sends current after current of heat and wetness between my legs.

Two identical long ends of rope dangle from below my breasts. Patrick draws them downwards then one by one, separates my folds until one cord rests snug on one side of my clit and the other on the opposite side. Patrick uses his fingers to pull my clit forward so the ropes rest against the base. Both sections are then passed between my wet folds and ass crack before being cinched and tied behind my back. As they tighten, the ropes pinch my clit - like my breasts, I feel it swell and become engorged with pressure.

Patrick inspects his work, checking for circulation issues or any undue friction or rubbing. He gives a nod, then rises to retrieve a mirror hung near our front door. He holds it in front of me, and I gasp at the beauty of the rope and the design it creates over my torso. My breasts swell from their confines - their faint pink color contrasting with my otherwise pale skin. The crimson color is stunning. My face turns warm when my eyes trace the length of rope down over my belly to between my legs. My clitoris is swollen and red, the exposed head jutting lewdly between its captors.

"Sir...Master, it's beautiful. Can we...would you take pictures?"

A look of surprise passes over Patrick's smoldering expression. Early in our relationship I'd requested that we avoid pictures - mostly to protect my public image should they accidentally get leaked.

"I would like nothing more," he responds, getting up to retrieve his cellphone.

He takes around a half dozen pictures from every angle, then a few embarrassingly close up shots of my breasts, cunt, and ass. Perhaps I'm more of an exhibitionist than I thought, because somehow my body is already catapulting towards orgasm. My clit is buzzing, sending shockwaves up my spine, splintering out to my fingertips. The pressure builds steadily and uncontrollably until I fear the slightest movement may propel me forward.

"Sir! I can't help it - I'm going to come!"

He reaches forward and pulls the rope away from my clit, pulling each side out and away. I'm panting with my eyes clenched tight, attempting to quell the waves of pleasure inside of me.