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Better Ch. 01

By: MsQuote



Part 1 - Robert

Andrea had to be one of the most wild and exciting women I have ever known in a carnal way. Absolutely ready and willing at a drop of a hat. She had no inhibitions and she had orgasms that didn't quit. It was hard to know if they were multiples or just one marathon long ones. When she came, she completely coated my cock if I didn't take the opportunity to pull out and watch her cum pour out of her vagina that was so damn lickable if it wasn't so enthralling to watch. And she was a gusher: warm rushes of ejaculate that would soak the bed from the comforter, through the sheets, and through the mattress pad, sometimes more than a couple of times if we had the time to fuck. When I was done, there was no turning her off. She was also wickedly smart and incredibly talented as a professional print photographer who offered to be a mentor to me.

It was apparent that she was attracted to me from the get-go. It was in the way she would cross her arms, tilt her head and let her bangs fall over one eye, and look directly into my eyes when she talked to me. It was in the way she stopped everything she was doing to listen to me.

But I wasn't quite sure how she fit into my life. The first time we went out on a shoot, she said she wanted more and deserved better in relationship. She said she had absolutely no interest in a friends with benefit arrangement, and quite frankly, she deserves the kind of guy who would romance her over candlelight dinners and send flowers to her at her studio. But my head wasn't in relationship mode. I was running three businesses, and quite frankly, I liked the life of going out with the guys to watch a game at the bar, and if I was lucky, bring someone home for a good night fuck.

But there was an admittedly strong buzz between us, a charge that was as strong as a zap you would feel were touching something electric that short circuit. I felt it all over my body. As she gave me what I thought would be a friendly hug and a kiss goodbye the second time together we worked together, her velvet voice turned to gravel and said she something to me on the same order. It didn't take long until my steel hard rod was plowing into her. Deeply. And for consecutive drillings.

It became routine for us to shoot or edit and fuck like rabid jackals once a week or so, although there was nothing routine about the way we scorched the bed and the ground beneath it. The woman had a way of bending and lifting her body in every possible way for me to place myself into her. But one evening as we were wrapping up putting together the first pieces for my online portfolio, she said she couldn't.

"Can I ask why?" I asked.

She bowed her head, cast her eyes away from me toward the floor, and said, "I have to get up early in the morning. I have to pick someone up at the airport first thing in the morning."

"This doesn't sound like just 'someone.'" I said, not knowing if I didn't want to ask that question because I didn't want to invade her privacy or because I was trying to hold back on what I felt a pang of jealousy coming from the deepest part of my gut.

"A dear friend and ..." she said.

"Fuck buddy," I said. There was no guessing the end of that sentence.

I asked her to tell me about him. She said they met on a photography retreat several years ago. He was a talented amateur whose day job was a C-level something for a bank headquartered on the west coast. He was also married and had no intention of divorcing his wife. She said the both of them hit it off as friends, the troublemakers in their classes – always talking and cracking jokes when they should have been paying attention. Towards the end of the retreat, they had skipped classes altogether and spent the time touring the nearby resort town on foot, sightseeing by day, gourmet dinners in the evening, and make love into the mid hours of the morning. She said she broke every rule she ever had about married men and one-time hook-ups, but the time with him was worth it. She said it was being with him was how she knew she deserved and had to be treated: better.

"But he's married and lives 2,500 miles away," I said, perplexed.

"We get together every month or so," she said. "He makes excuses to come out to conferences here. There have been a few trips elsewhere – Napa, Cabo San Lucas, the Bahamas."

"I can see how that can be appealing," I said, surprised that a woman who lived rather frugally, if not gypsyish in a loft that felt more like a Pier One version of a Moroccan sultan's tent than the guts of late 1920's warehouse, would compromise her values.

"We're great friends and he treats and respects me better as a person, a woman, than any man ever has," she said. "He is my better. Well, at least my almost better."

She dropped her head again, this time in the palms of her hands as if she was trying to keep her face from falling to the floor. I lifted her head up and she wouldn't let go from covering her face. When she did, her eyes were welling, glassy.

I found a box of tissues and brought them to her. I wanted to know what the tears were all about.

"It's awkward telling you," she said. 

"You love him?" I asked, not expecting her answer.

"He's fallen in love with me," she said. "It goes against the original parameters of what we originally agreed to. He still has no plans to leave his wife, but he believes I'm exclusive to him.

She took a deep sigh, lifted her head to look at me and said, "I have feelings for you, all of them unrequited. And I feel bad keeping you a secret from him."

Her face fell like the sunlight that was fading she was staring at outside of the window. I had to break the silence by asking, "Does he fuck like me?"

She cracked half a smile and half a chuckle, and said, "Do you really want to know?"

She was right, but in a way, but I did want to know. 

"Think Miles Davis, an expensive Cabernet, and being recited John Dunne and Pablo Neruda by memory, while bathing," she said.

We both fell silent again. I don't know what was going through her mind, but I couldn't filter and sort through what was going on in my head. I had to bring myself to admit that I felt ashamed for outright knowing that I clearly took advantage of her open and vulnerable spirit. I had to admit that stirring feeling deep in my gut was jealousy that simmering and rising. I really wanted to press her up against the window she was staring out of and fuck her from behind until she was standing on tip toes and screaming so loud that the tenants on the top floor, two above, could hear her as If she was in their room. And I really wanted her to have better. 

All I could think to do was to wrap my arms around her waist, press myself gently against her body that was seeking comfort, plant a warm kiss on her cheek, and say, "I hope you have a wonderful time. Let me know the next time you feel like having me hang out and learn something."

She turned her head and put a smile on her face as her eyes dammed up another stream of tears. I hoped that hug would make her feel better and would be the most comfortable way to a conversation that couldn't and shouldn't go any farther. But as I walked out of the door, I couldn't help but to feel like a douchebag for not giving her my attention and my time. For not telling her that I was really feeling for her, and didn't want to leave until I knew she was OK.

Or maybe what she needs is better. Whatever form that comes in.

Better Ch. 01



***Author's Note: This story, based on a series of dreams I had, proved hard for me to categorize. There are elements of mind control, which itself raises questions about consent, as well as a heavy dose of dominance and "programmed" sexual slavery. Yet I hope it also reads as a love story, too, between two people who both cannot be together and cannot be apart from one another. I've chosen BDSM because of the nature of the sex scenes to come in the next chapters, but avid readers of the category might argue it doesn't quite fit for this one. It starts a little disorienting, but stay with it—it'll make sense in the end!***




The snow is falling. The air inside is warm, but the window cold, crystalline cold. The world is almost white, but for the faint outlines of trees and the stream. The water flows black, caps of white peaking and frothing. The trees cling to their meager shield of leaves, to no avail. Heavy white flakes of snow, born along by the wind, batter the blood red leaves, tearing them from the tree. Everything moves so slowly, the stream, the scarlet leaves, dancing for a moment in the wind before settling into the soft banks of snow or falling, like Ophelia, into the stream.

It was happening again.

***

Where am I?

It was bright. Images focused. Rows of colored plastic. Cold air. Music that sounded almost familiar.

Thank god—the grocery store.

Audrey was starving. Her legs felt sore, but it didn't compare to the tenderness in her most intimate areas. She looked down at the shopping cart below her: grapes, bananas, crackers, tuna, yogurt. 

When did I get those?

She navigated her cart towards the front of the store. She was in pain; not unbearable, but not easily ignored either. She wanted to go home, where she wouldn't have to concentrate, to try to remember where she was, what she was doing, even who she was. At home, mommy and daddy would help her.

"Paper or plastic?"

Audrey couldn't fully understand the question. She wasn't made of either.

"Whatever you want," she responded.

It was easier to just agree.

***

Their laughter was cruel.

"Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut!"

"This chick is just nasty!"

"Dude, at least wipe it off first."

"How much is that?"

"A fucking gallon, bro."

"Who's cleaning her up this time?"

***

Every vein on every leaf is visible, branching out like lightning across the sky. The world is almost totally silent. No one is alive, but no one is dead. There is no Audrey to stand at the window.

The stream flows on. Somewhere, it flows into a river, and that river flows into the ocean. The stream begins in a mountain, but no one has ever seen it, and no one ever will. 

***

"This is the girl you were talking about?"

"Yeah, she's come by, like, ten times this month."

"Who is she—who the fuck are you?"

Audrey didn't know how she got to this house, and she didn't recognize the two men in front of her. They looked maybe twenty years old, dressed in running shorts and t-shirts. The dark-haired one looked confused and in disbelief, as if she couldn't possibly be real. The sandy-haired one gave her an evil leer.

"My name is Audrey," she said. "But I don't know...anything."

The sandy-haired man snapped his fingers.

"Watch this—hey, Audrey. Don't you want to suck our cocks? You know how to, right?"

Audrey's mind was fuzzy. She shivered, as if a sudden cold draft had brushed across her skin.

"Whatever you want," she said.

***

Audrey felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you OK, honey?" an older woman asked her.

The older woman wore rimmed glasses and a knit cardigan that looked homemade. She had curly white hair, and Audrey thought that if she could remember anything or anyone, then this lady would have probably reminded her of someone nice.

"No," Audrey told her, "I don't feel good. I'm going home so my mom and dad can look after me."

The woman looked surprised.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, I thought you went to college here."

Audrey tried to think for a moment before giving up.

"I might."

***

I'm at home, right now.

There was no snow, no stream, no tree. The house was big, so big that she was afraid that if she tried to explore it all she'd get lost and forget where she was. There were parts she couldn't remember, rooms left unopened. She was hungry, though she loathed eating. 

Audrey walked to the fridge: grapes. Lot of them. 

I must buy them everyday. I wish I could remember not to.

She closed the fridge; on the door, she had a whiteboard. Written in red marker:

NO GRAPES TODAY

Great job—that'll work.

Audrey got her bunch of grapes and curled up into the corner of her sofa. Slowly, she fed herself. The grapes were sour, unpleasant, but for some reason they were the easiest thing for her to eat. As she ate, she let her mind go to the other place: not to her window, but to him.

Master.

His face was kind but strong, and she was grateful for the small blessing of remembering it. Sometimes he would smile, and her heart would melt. Little lines would form at the corners of his green eyes, and his cheek bones would lift, so that he was just barely squinting as he smiled down on her. Other times, his face was stony and fierce, and she knew she had displeased him. If he would only come to punish her, to discipline her, then maybe he could forgive her. Maybe he would even come back. 

Audrey touched herself when she thought of Master, but never brought herself to climax. Only Master could give her that gift.

Tomorrow. I'll find him tomorrow, and he'll have to forgive me

***

Another day.

Pieces that don't fit.

Some people are nice, but some people aren't.

Audrey felt sore, but she couldn't remember why.

Why won't Master come back?

Snow falling on red leaves.

***

Audrey was startled to hear a knock on the door. She had been...asleep? Putting moments together was always difficult; sometimes, it was easier to believe that each moment was like waking from a dream.

She went to the door, uncertain if she was supposed to know who was there. There was a big note on the door:

HOME CARE @ 9 AM AND 4 PM

She looked outside, and it was dark already.

Home care is Linda. Linda is nice, and I should listen to her.

Audrey felt proud of herself. She read that note this morning, and it stuck in her brain as late as...well, as late as it was now. She opened the door.

Finally.

"I'm sorry for coming here, Audrey," the man at the door told her.

He made no effort to enter the house; in fact, he stood five feet from the door and looked uncomfortable even being there. Yet he couldn't take his eyes off Audrey, and even she could tell his emotions were charged.

"Master? You came back."

"Master?" he said incredulously. "You're still—shit. I...we need to talk. Can I come in?"

Audrey felt a rush of joy, as her body seemingly unclenched from the tension that wore her down from day to day. Master looked so beautiful, so perfect. He would punish her, true, but then he would forgive her, and she could serve him, and love him, and worship him again.

Audrey felt a jolt when she realized that, though she thought of Master every day, the time they had spent apart had softened and distorted his image in her mind. Seeing him in the flesh again triggered thoughts, thoughts that danced on the edge of becoming memories.

He was tall, but not too tall. Just perfect, she thought, and he was fit without having any show-offy muscles or flashy clothing. His face was clean-shaven and youthful, though the hint of stubble gave him a masculine gravitas. Most of all, his sparkling brown eyes were captivating. Audrey could stare into them all day.

As she contemplated all the things Master would do to her, she felt...different. The knock, the sign on the door, remembering the home care nurses's name, seeing Master. The moments fit together, seamlessly, for once. Instead of broken pieces, they formed...a story. A memory.

"Please Master, please come in. I'm so sorry I made you mad. I'll do anything to make it up to you."

Master hurriedly entered the room, before taking hold of one of Audrey's arms. The feeling of his hand on her skin was electric. She felt a tingle inside, a warmth spread through her body. As her body grew more excited, though, her mind grew clearer. She suddenly felt as if she could see better. She saw the stubble on Master's chin, the soft, round lobes of his ears, the ridge under his nose, leading into his lips. She saw him the way she saw her vision of the window.

"I'm not your Master, Audrey. I guess I hoped you'd gotten...better. I should have known it was impossible. Do you remember me?"

"Of course, Master. You own me. I used to serve you, please you. I belong to you—"

"None of that ever happened," he said. "It's part...it's what we did to you. A couple of years ago you were part of a project at the university, and I worked on that project. We...damaged your mind and your memory-forming capacities—"

Master kept talking, but Audrey couldn't understand what he was doing. He told her stories about her that made no sense, about some kind of neurological experiment, about people she'd never heard of. It overwhelmed her, and she tuned out his words, only to focus on the sound of his voice. It flowed over her, like a soft breeze. She could feel his words on her skin, even if she couldn't understand them.

"Listen to me right now."

She snapped to attention. Since he'd arrived, Audrey had noticed that Master had changed, only she couldn't put her finger on how exactly. Now she realized that until that command, he hadn't been using his real voice.

"I'm sorry," Master said. "I had to do that. It's my fault for laying so much on you. I should have known you couldn't handle it. Audrey, I want you to answer some questions for me."

"Of course, Master," she responded, her voice betraying a dreamy arousal. "I would do anything for you."

"Do you know what happened to your parents?"

Audrey tried to think back to where they'd gone. She couldn't remember having seen them for a while, but that wasn't unexpected in her condition.

"No," she said, fearing she was disappointing him. "But I'll look for them, if you want."

"It's alright," he said. "You wouldn't be able to find them. Audrey, do you have a nurse visit you?"

"Yes. A home care nurse comes at 9 AM and 4 PM," she said.

Master smiled. I got the answer right

"I'm so happy you can remember that," he said, before she pointed at the sign on the door.

His smile went away a little, which made Audrey sad.

"Well, you're still smart, even after everything. Just one more question: are you hungry?"

Audrey was almost always hungry. She invariably delayed eating until forced by physical need. It was simply something she didn't like to do.

"Yes, but I can wait," she said with confidence.

Master reached down to a canvas bag that Audrey had paid little attention to before and pulled out a Ziploc bag full of white grapes.

"I remembered you liked these," he said. "I want to try something that I think might help you. I think we should sit down."

Audrey hesitated, not because she didn't want to follow Master to the sofa, but because she hoped he would lead her by the hand, hold his body close to hers. Yet after the initial touch on her arm, he had maintained some distance from her, as if he was afraid to touch her. 

Disappointedly, she walked over to the sofa, expecting at this point for Master to sit at the far side. When he came down and sat himself right up against her, their legs touching, she felt a thrill. Master reached his left hand behind her and cradled her head, his hand pulling through her tangled blonde curls. Pulling her hair hurt, but the pain was both bracing and clarifying, like diving into a cold pool of water. With his hand firmly at the back of her head, Master plucked a grape from the bag and brought it slowly to her lips.

"Eat this grape for me."

Audrey was swimming in sensation. Her body was humming, vibrating like a wire. Her mind felt sharp; she knew exactly what was expected of her, what was happening. For the first time since—who knows?—Audrey felt like herself. 

She took the grape into her mouth and bit down into it. Its juices exploded into her mouth. 

I've gotta go to his grocery store.

She had never tasted a grape so good. It wasn't simply the flavor, though that was exquisite: sweet and slightly tart, rich and full over her tongue. It was the texture of the flesh, soft, but firm, and the feeling of the cold juice running across her tongue, into her mouth, and down her throat. For a moment, all she could smell was the grape, and her rotten, awful grapes seemed worthless in comparison.

"Wait one moment."

Audrey unquestioningly obeyed. Master left her on the sofa to rummage through her kitchen. She heard him laugh when he opened the fridge, and he returned with a second bag of grapes, this one she had bought herself.

"Audrey, was my grape better than your grapes?"

"So much better, Master. I've never tasted something like that before."

"Well, let's try one of your grapes, OK?"

Audrey had no intention of denying her Master.

Could this be part of my punishment? Tempt me with one of his grapes, then force me to eat the rotten grapes I bought? I'll do it. I'll eat them all for him.

Master placed his hand at the back of her head again. Audrey would eat the bad grapes, as long as he would hold her like this. He slowly brought up the grape and placed it at her lips. She opened her mouth and let him slip the grape inside. Then she bit down into it.

How did he do that?

"You liked this grape, too, right?"

"Did you switch them?" she asked. "It's as good as the first one. Maybe better."

"Don't ask me questions about this right now. I'm sorry. Listen, Audrey, this is going to sound...well, it is crazy. But I think it'll work, so...I'm going to feed you at night now. I can't explain it yet."

Master fed Audrey another mouthwatering grape, which she greedily accepted into her waiting mouth. She felt so cared for and loved, as he fed her by hand.

"You look...you're too thin. You weren't always like that. I can help you eat better, and I...I don't want to get your hopes up, but I think it could help you some in other ways, too. I wish it wasn't like this. You deserve so much better. But for now, I'll see you every night to make sure you get a good dinner."

"Thank you, Master," Audrey said, happy that Master hadn't given up on her.

She knew that her punishment was coming soon, but Master's kindness in feeding her was completely welcome. She wished he'd told her he'd never leave her side, but she could sense, through intuition and maybe even faint memory, that seeing him every day was all she deserved until she atoned for what she'd done to Master.

They sat together, silently, as Master fed her the remainder of the grapes in the bag. Though Audrey felt at peace in his arms, she was by no means sated and content. Being in the proximity of Master without feeling him touch her everywhere, without the chance to truly serve him, without offering her body to his pleasure, was also nerve-wracking. Master was feeding her, caring for her, caressing her head, and she was doing nothing to relieve the agony he must be feeling in not taking out his powerful lust on her.

As Master fed her a grape, Audrey let her hand trail down to his crotch. She expected to find his cock rock hard, ready for her to worship it. But Master only moved her hand away.

"Don't do that ever, Audrey." he said.

Audrey felt her body begin to shake. She was crying before she realized it.

"I'm so sorry, Master," she sobbed. "All I need is a chance. I'll show you—"

"I'm not your master," Master exclaimed. "My name is Alex."

"Why are you doing this to me Mast—"

"Do not call me Master. Call me Alex."

Audrey felt a swirl of confusion. She hadn't meant to violate Master's boundaries. But demanding she not call him by his name, call him something else, was confusing. She feared it would tax her memory, the last thing she needed.

Master stopped feeding her, and pulled her into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he said stroking her hair softly as she cried into his shoulder. "It's not your fault. It's mine. It's hard to see you again. I tried to stay away."

Audrey tilted her head to look at him, her eyes still rimmed with tears, even after feeling comforted by his embrace.

"Please don't stay away," she begged in a soft voice. "I need you so bad. I won't...do whatever I did to make you go ever again. I'm sorry I can't remember what it was."

Master—Alex, remember it's Alex—held her by her waist, looking into her sad blue eyes.

"I'm not mad at you," he said, pained by what he had to do. "I...shit...I forgive you. Please do not worry about me being mad at you anymore. We are...officially OK now. Do you understand?"

Audrey felt relieved.

"Yes Master. Thank you so much. I'll show you how good I can be. I'll get 'it' back one day."

Master looked confused, before it dawned on him.

"Audrey, you and I haven't...had sex. Ever. We aren't going to. I'm here to help you because I owe it to you."

Master left to make a sandwich, and Audrey felt confused. She had precious few memories, and now Master was telling her that even those were wrong. She didn't want to challenge him and risk pushing him away again, but it hurt to think that what few shreds she had of a life, of an identity, were illusions. She didn't know if Master would lie to her: he could be firm, even merciless, but never sadistic or cruel. His harshness was always for her benefit, to train her and teach her how to be the person he wanted her to be.

It was too much for her to take, the strain on her mind. She started to drift, until she wasn't there anymore at all. Somewhere far away, snowflakes fell on a stream, mingling in with blood red leaves.

"Audrey? Audrey? What's happening?"

I'm lost in a dream, Master...

***

"I brought you some chicken," Alex said, as he shoved the front door aside, struggling with grocery bags. "Did Nancy put the soup in the crock pot this morning?"

"Yes," Audrey said. "Can't you smell it?"

"I can," he said. "Although I think soup isn't the easiest thing to spoon-feed you."

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was stupid—"

"No," he chimed in. "it wasn't stupid. You're not stupid."

These unconventional dinners had been going on for a week now. 

"Audrey, what did we eat for dinner yesterday?"

Audrey searched her memory, but could only remember impressions: the feel of Master's strong hand cradling her head, the sensation of Master's strong body against hers, the longing she felt to please Master, the sadness and shame that came from seeing Master unhappy and dissatisfied in her presence.

"I'm sorry, Master, I don't...I mean, Alex...I...I can't..."

Master held her close and rubbed her back as she cried. I know if he would just punish me then I could make him happy again.

"Don't cry," he said soothingly. "You're making progress. You told me you were going to wear that dress yesterday, and you remembered to today."

I remember saying that. I remember thinking that Master would be pleased. I remember...

"Spinach salad...and...salmon!"

Master's face lit up, and Audrey felt a warm feeling suffuse her.

"That's right," he said. "You are getting better."

***

On her own, Audrey couldn't quite remember exactly when they started eating together, so she kept a calendar of their meals. Each day, though, she found herself able to remember bits and pieces of every night, until she could remember whole days and nights, even a few in a row. She didn't go out anymore, and she could even remember why she used to wander the streets alone: she had been looking for Master. Now she didn't need to look any more.




Better Ch. 01



Every night he came to her. He fed her, held her, and performed his memory tests. He told her when she was doing better, and suddenly doing better was the most important thing, because it was the only way she ever got to please Master.

Things were better, even if she couldn't really remember how they were before, at least not clearly. She knew that she used to feel ashamed all the time. And sore, though never satisfied. She used to feel horny too, when she thought of Master, but on March 4, marked in green marker on her calendar, he had given her permission to masturbate. 

It had been an awkward conversation for him when he realized both that his nightly visits were highly arousing for her and that she felt herself prohibited from climaxing without his express approval. She'd begged him to touch her there, or at least to sit with her and hold her while she masturbated, if he wouldn't take her body for himself, but it had been too much for him to contemplate. Instead, he simply told her that she was to masturbate immediately after he left and climax as many times as she wished.

When she had to come without him, though, she felt ashamed and alone, burdened by a crushing, inexplicable feeling of guilt. Her mind would drift afterwards, unable to see his face. She would awake, as if from a trance, confused and alone, her panties wet and bunched around her ankles. 

It was their one-month anniversary, as she imagined it, and for the moment Master was there, and everything was alright. Master had cut up the chicken and ladled some soup into a ceramic bowl for her. Cradling her head, he fed her silently. She ate greedily—lunch had been a bunch of grapes, breakfast even less. She smiled when he spilled a drop of soup on her chest, just below her collarbone. It burned her slightly, and the pain aroused her. 

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Can you get it for me?"

Alex looked down at the pearly drop of soup on her chest. He didn't bother with the napkin, but reached down with one finger to wipe it off, trailing across her breastbone for a fleeting moment, before licking the soup off the end of his finger. Her body shuddered against his.

"Don't start," he said gently.

"When you want to again, you know you can have me," she whispered, her voice breathy with longing.

Recently, she had begun to wear more and more revealing clothing for Master's visits. She even went out shopping on her own, and she could remember leaving the house, picking out clothing, and returning with it.

She was getting better, and it was because of him.

"Are you ready?"

It was time for their exercises.

"Ready when you are."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Audrey Sappery. I was born in Seattle, but we moved somewhere cold. I can't remember where. My parents were Richard and Marjorie Sappery. I don't know what happened to my father. I don't know when my mother married Irvin Feldman. I called him 'Dad,' too. I went to college at Armstrong College, and it was cold there, too. That's where I met you, Ma—Alex. Then something happened. Two months ago my parents died. Nancy came from home care. One month ago you came to my house. Now you feed me dinner every night, but I'm not allowed to please you. It makes me very anxious, so when you leave, I have to play with myself. I'm in love with you, and you own—"

"Audrey those last things aren't memories," Alex interrupted. "We're trying to build up a set of facts to help you string together those memories."

Audrey felt ashamed for disappointing Master. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she also hated to fail at her exercises. The truth was that she was leaving out the most important memory of all, when Master took ownership of her, when Master made her his slave, when Master made love to her all night and whipped her and marked her as his property. 

And then he went away.

"I'm trying," she said. "I'm doing better, right?"

Master looked at her with kindness.

"You are," he said. "But...I think we could do more."

Audrey's heart started to beat faster. Was Master going to take her back?

"The eating therapy is working, I think. You seem much more...present. I think it's time for me to explain some things to you. Audrey, do you feel calm and relaxed?"

"Mostly," she said hesitantly. "But being with you makes me get all scrambled inside. If you could just touch me..."

Alex looked uncomfortable.

"About that...I've been thinking. I want to explain things to you. I know it feels like I'm punishing you, but I promise I'm not. Tonight, I want you to feel as relaxed and happy as I can. We can talk afterwards."

Audrey didn't know what Master was talking about yet, but she watched transfixed as he stood up in front of her.

"Audrey come to the sofa with me."

Her eyes lit up as she heard his command voice, and she hastened over to the sofa, following behind him like a puppy dog.

"Take your panties off and lean against me."

It's finally happening.

Audrey slid her already wet panties off and let them fall to the floor. Master had already sat down, and she lowered herself to face him.

"No, facing away from me"

She turned around, rubbing her ass against his crotch. He was hard, and it thrilled Audrey to feel that she was finally beginning to please him again. Her skirt was bunched up against her upper thighs as she straddled his right leg.

Master reached his left arm around her waist to hold her in place. She felt like her pussy was on fire, and her juices began to streak down her thigh onto Master's pant leg. 

"You can call me Master if it helps," he said. "Just lie back against me. Don't worry."

With his right hand, Master reached under her skirt to trace his fingers against her skin. When he found the delicate folds between her thighs, she shuddered in anticipation. He moved slowly and with a light touch, as if he were afraid to hurt her. Master's fingers found her clit, and he began to massage her there in a gentle circular motion, dipping once, then twice into her well-lubed honey pot to slicken her all over. Her body felt like a dream, but the passion didn't cloud her mind; on the contrary, she felt fully present, mentally and spiritually whole, even as her body burned for his touch.

This ecstasy wasn't driving her mad. It was making her sane.

Master caressed her delicate flower, teasing her, stoking the fire inside, yet promising with his fingers to soon slake her thirst for satisfaction. The pleasure was immense, all-consuming, yet she could not help but wonder if there wasn't something wrong about Master giving her such pleasure when she had given him nothing in return.

As if he sensed her discomfort with receiving so much pleasure, Master whispered into her ear:

"I'm sorry for this."

He bit into her shoulder, hard, and though he did not break the skin, the pain of it radiated outwards throughout her body. She began to cum, hard, and it felt so different than when she rubbed herself, ashamed and alone. She realized that for the first time, her mind and body were both fully present when the orgasm overtook her, and the pain grounded her, tied her to Master and to herself, to Audrey Sappery, the person she was and had always been.

Her body slumped against his.

"Thank you, Master," she panted. "I missed that so much."

Audrey could feel Master's erection against her bare flesh, and she wished he would let her fulfill her role to please him.

"Audrey, I'm going to go wash my hands. When I'm gone, I want you to just relax, and then we're going to talk, OK?"

"Yes...Alex. That sounds nice."

Audrey felt different now. Normally after an orgasm she felt confused and sad. Now she felt...herself. Confident, even.

When Alex came back, he sat across from her. She smoothed her skirt down to seem ladylike, though she didn't bother putting her panties back on.

"You look...better," he said. "And that means it's time for me to tell you some things."

Audrey was pleased to hear him compliment her, as thin of a compliment as it sounded.

"Yes, please. And, if it's OK, I'd like to ask you some questions, too," she said inquisitively.

"Me first," Alex said. "You've made excellent progress rebuilding a continuity of memory and identity on a daily level. That's not easy in your condition, and it's a testament to how strong you've been. I'm going to tell you some parts of your past that you can't remember, and—let me be clear—you'll never be able to remember those parts."

Alex paused. He looked mournful.

"Audrey, parts of your brain that form memories were irreparably damaged. There are chunks of your life you will never get back. You'll always have difficulty holding on to new memories as well, though you're doing an incredible job with rebuilding that capacity. I believe there are ways for me to make both of these things—old memories and new—better for you. But I've been hesitant to do anything because...well, because of our history and what it would take for me to help you."

Audrey looked hopefully at her Master. She wanted to know their history more than anything, to piece together what were only fragments, many of which he'd denied even happening.

"Master, I would do anything to learn how we met, how you took me—"

"Audrey, I don't own you. I never did. But I did know you. So I need you to try to listen, but you need to warn me if it hurts you or makes you scared, because when that happens, your mind...it goes to a place that protects you. And that place destroys your memory-making. It helps you with pain, but it takes away who you are."

Audrey's mouth gaped in astonishment.

"The window," she whispered. "When I'm afraid, I see the window."

Master nodded his head.

"I don't know what it is," he said, "an image, a memory. It might not even be real. But the more you go there, the harder it is for you to feel like...well, like you. So I don't want you to go there, and I know you need my help for that. Things are better when I'm here—when I feed you and hold you, right?"

"You know they are, Master," she said. "I wish there was more..."

"I know," he said, with evident sadness. "Something happened in our past together. It made you feel this way about me. It made you feel it. You can't help it. And I can't make it go away, either. We...we damaged you. We put this feeling in you. It was an accident. You have memories of me that never happened, that were built from old memories, from suggestions, from what we did to you. You can't get rid of them—believe me, I wish you could. It means that you'll always want me near you, you'll always see me as 'Master.' To wipe those feelings out would be like erasing your whole mind; they're in the core of who you are now."

Alex paused, trembling almost imperceptibly.

"I'm so sorry."

"Master, I love you," she said. "I understand what you're saying, but...this is real to me. This is the realest part of me."

"And I know why you feel that way. But...fuck...this wasn't what was supposed to happen. I didn't do this to you on purpose," he said with frustration. "I'm getting off track. I'm trying to explain your life to you here. Do you know where this house comes from? How you pay for things?"

"Mom and Dad paid for everything. Two months ago my parents died. Nancy came from home care. One month ago you came to my house."

"Yes, I know you can recite that. This wasn't their house. You didn't grow up here. This is your house, and you paid for everything. You received a very large settlement from the University after our experiments did this to you. You're actually a very wealthy woman, Audrey. I'm feeding you Shop-Rite rotisserie chickens and potato soup, but you could be eating lobster at Tulloch's every night. When your parents were alive, they took care of the money for you. But you know now that they died, even if you can't really remember it. Your aunt set up home care for you, but you got worse without them, and you started looking for me around the University. And...bad things happened to you. People hurt you, and it hurt your mind, too. That's when I heard about it."

"You came to save me, Master? I knew you loved me."

Master looked as if he was going to cry. Audrey marveled at how he could look so emotionally raw and vulnerable yet remain commanding and authoritative. He'd say it was all in my mind.

"I didn't save you. I broke you. I'm not even supposed to be here. Audrey, I'm never supposed to talk to you. I could go to jail for even being here. I was a graduate student working on the research project that did this to you. They threw me out of school. I mean, I probably should have gone to jail. I know you don't remember this—hell, I know, know, that nothing I tell you could ever make you hate me, or even stop loving me. But you should hate me. You should hate my fucking guts, but you can't, because of me. So I came back because you don't have anybody, and because this is all my fault. And every time you try to...do things with me, it's like...it's like rape. Because our fucking procedures created those needs in you. It's not really you at all."

Audrey felt poised on the edge of a mental precipice. Master's words hurt her, the idea that her love for him, her devotion to him was some trick of brain chemistry, some lab accident. Why couldn't see how pure her feelings were? The pain, the confusion, the sting of losing a happy fantasy of their past, pushed her towards letting go, towards letting go and allowing her mind to leave her.

"I need you right now, Master," she said. "I don't want to go away."

Alex didn't hesitate like usual. He seemed to know this was a risk.

"Listen to my voice. I want you to lean over my lap, right now."

Audrey complied immediately, her skirt fluttering up to reveal the milky white globes of her soft ass.

"You are mine, Audrey. I am your Master. I care about you, and I know what is best for you."

Audrey thrilled to hear his words, to hear him no longer deny the truth of their relationship. He began to spank her, not hard, but enough to make her feel the sting of his hand. Her previous orgasm did little to stifle her lust. Master was taking her, using her body the way he was supposed to. She was finally in her rightful position.

"You will not go there. You will stay here with me. And every night, if you are a good girl, I will sleep beside you. But you must not touch me. Now come."

Master spanked her ass, harder and faster, though he did not touch her pussy. It didn't matter; her hips bucked, and she surprised even herself by coming, a wave of pleasure washing over her. It all happened so fast, not by physical stimulation, but by the awesome force of his voice alone. She felt validated by Master's power over her body; that kind of control was no accident. She was made to come for Master, and finally he would let her back in.

"I'm serious," Alex said, as Audrey looked back at the man stroking her sore, red ass. "This situation is beyond illegal. It's wrong on every level, but I think if I sleep next to you, and...a few other things...well, I think your identity formation functions will noticeably improve."

Audrey liked Master's scientific talk, not because she understood it, but because it testified to Master's amazing mind, matched only by his incredible body. He was going to live with her, sleep in her bed.

It's his bed now. His house.

"I'm so glad you're moving in," she said. "I promise you'll love it—"

"I'm not moving in," he said patiently. "I'm coming over to help you fall asleep. It doesn't matter where I am when you're asleep."

"It matters to me," Audrey said imploringly. "If I wake up in the middle of the night—"

"Do you? Wake up a lot?" Alex asked her. "Because that would make sense."

"I don't know," she said. "I know that I don't feel good in the mornings. Things are better...clearer...at night when you come."

Alex breather a heavy sigh. For Audrey, she feared it was the prelude to rejection.

"You're right."

It took a second for her to register the meaning of his words. She still couldn't accept it, not until he confirmed it.

"Audrey, from now on, I'm going to come over like usual. When it's time for bed, I'm going to put you to bed, and then I'll stay over here. I'll...I don't know, get you a bell or something. If you need help getting back to sleep, then I'll still be here, and I'll leave in the morning before Nancy comes."

"Why do you need a bell?" she asked with a lilting voice. "I'll be right beside you."

"That can't happen," Alex told her. "This is already fucked up enough as it is. I mean, I'm going to have to bring clothes over and—"

"Yeah," she said with a smile, still riding high on the idea of Master returning, "that's what moving in is, right?"

"Audrey," he said, summoning up reserves of patience, "I'm not moving in. You can't really grasp how...how evil it would be to move into the house you bought with the money you got from us. They really should throw me in jail for that."

"Who's they?" Audrey asked. "Police don't come here, Ma—Alex."

She was starting to remember how he liked to be addressed better.

"It's hard to talk to you about this," he said circumspectly. "It's not that you won't get angry with me; it's that you can't. I can describe an action, and you'll tell me it's horrible. If I tell you I did it, you'll say I must have had a reason. If I did it to you? You'll ask me to forgive you. It scares me. It's too much."

Audrey felt herself begin to cry; if this was too much for Master, it was beyond too much for her. She wanted to slip away again, but in his presence, she felt stronger. She just needed him to stay.

"Alex. I...I get confused a lot. I get lost. Bad things happen to me, and I don't even know what they are. But things are better with you. I don't hate you, I love you. If you would sleep next to me, I know I would feel better. Please."

Master seemed jumpy to Audrey, and it made her nervous as well.

"OK," he said. "We're going to try this out for a while. I'm going to bring some things over here and sleep beside you. But listen—I'm only doing this because supporting you through core dormative functions is likely to induce—"

Audrey interrupted Master by wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. She felt an immediate feeling of guilt, having touched Master without his permission, yet it was mingled with lust and satisfaction at feeling Master's soft, warm lips against her own. 

Please, please, please punish me.

Alex was surprised, having gotten used to the passive, fragile version of Audrey. She was bolder now, and he it didn't escape him that she had just won an argument of sorts against him. He would spend all night with her from now on, he realized.

After dinner, they sat together for a few hours, working on memory exercises for a while before giving up for the night to watch a movie together. In the quiet moments with Audrey, Alex could turn off his mind and ignore their troubled history. In other world, he would be thrilled to have his arm around a beautiful, intelligent young woman like Audrey. In this world, though, the stolen moments of happiness from being with her were small solace for the painful memories she invoked in him.

Audrey looked over at her Master. She was excited to go to sleep, though the excitement only made her feel more awake. The feeling felt strangely familiar, and as she gazed into Master's eyes, ignoring the movie she was supposed to be watching, she felt the unfamiliar feeling of recognition.

"It's like when I was a little girl," she said slowly, "trying to go to sleep on Christmas Eve. I  remember feeling like this."

Alex paused the movie.

"You had a memory? How old were you? Where were you?"




Better Ch. 01



"Please Master," Audrey begged, "no tests. Just let me enjoy this for a while."

Alex relented; he didn't even correct her when she called him "Master." 

"It's been a long day," he said. "Let's try this out."

Master took Audrey's hand and led her upstairs. She could remember all the times Master had told her that he had not had sex with her—that he would not—but in that moment, with him leading her to the bed they would share from now on, she couldn't help but feel optimistic. He had once loved her body, had found his pleasure in her. That could happen again, if she was a very good girl.

"How do you sleep?" he asked. "I want you to feel comfortable."

Audrey wanted to lie to Master very badly, because she usually slept in cotton pajamas, and she wanted to sleep naked next to him. She tried thinking about what to say and found that she could remember things he said to her and things that made him smile. She didn't have to blurt out her instant emotional reaction anymore; she could reflect more now.

"Normally in some boring old pajamas, but I might get too hot with you next to me. May I sleep without pajamas, Alex?"

"I don't think—" Alex blurted out before stopping himself. "You know, I'm not your Master. Wear what you want."

Alex left the light on so Audrey could see. She slipped off her shirt and skirt with her back turned to him, hoping he was looking at her approvingly. When she turned around, Alex was only in his boxer shorts. He was already climbing into bed on the opposite side, clearly trying to avoid looking at her.

"Would you mind waiting for me to get in?" she asked. "Just so you can turn off the light."

Alex mumbled "yes" under his breath, and got back up, in time to see Audrey remove her black satin bra. Clad only in her matching black panties, Audrey sauntered over to the bed, hoping that Master might be aroused to take her. She could see Master's cock straining inside his shorts, and her own nipples began to harden in response, her desire to please Master almost overwhelming her resolve to follow his instructions.

Once she got into bed, Master turned off the lights and climbed in beside her. She nestled against him, her firm, full breasts pressed against his arm. She could hear him breathing heavily and knew he desired her, too. She thought about what terrible things she must have done to make him reject her like this and promised that she would one day win Master's love again.

For now, though, she felt as close to him as she had in a long time, though her extreme arousal made sleep seem far away. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, her soft blonde hair tickling him slightly. He squirmed in bed a little.

"I...I don't sleep on my back. Sorry, could I roll over?"

"Anything you want Master," Audrey cooed, as she felt him turn on his side towards her.

It was clear that Master's long arms had nowhere to go, and neither of them were used to another body in their bed. Master's hand brushed seemingly by accident against her breasts, their legs against one another.

"Could you roll over?" he asked her. "I'll put my arm under your head."

Audrey obeyed Master, rolling over so that he could spoon her. Alex pulled her close to him, one arm across her waist and one below her, laid out under her slender, soft neck. All Audrey could think about was whether he would squeeze her tight in that position, holding her with both arms and touching her sensitive breasts. He hesitated. 

Then she felt something altogether different: Master's hard cock jutting against the soft fabric of her panties. She had aroused him, and his manhood strained urgently against the barriers keeping them apart. She wiggled her backside against him, hoping to be subtle about stoking his lust. He let out a quiet moan and shuddered. She knew Master wanted her, even if he seemed incapable of admitting it. She reveled in the feeling of intimacy, the warmth of his body, and the way his throbbing cock proved that he wanted her body again.

"Please," Audrey whispered to Master, unable to face him but feeling like there was an opening for more than simply sleeping tonight. "Please give me another chance. I belong to you—let me make you feel good again."

This time, Master didn't lecture her about her memories, or command her to drop it. He sounded as conflicted as she was, but for a very different reason.

"I can't," he whispered. "This is as far as I can go...for now. It's...I want you too. Bad. Go to sleep Audrey."

She felt her body go limp in his arms, as he finally wrapped both of his arms around her.

She hadn't slept so well in years.

***

"You can do your laundry here, you know," she said as Alex rushed around collecting his stuff. "It's stupid to pay at a Laundromat."

Alex stopped the frantic pursuit of his last missing sock.

"I don't live here. And I have to get this stuff done on the weekends because I spend weeknights here after work."

"Alex, seriously, this is dumb. I'm begging you to move in. It's different now."

Alex hesitated. 

Is he actually thinking it over now?

"Look, Audrey, I've been thinking it over, and..."

"Say 'yes'—you know you want to!" she said giggling.

Alex looked worried.

"I've been thinking that I might stop sleeping here. You're getting better and—"

Audrey was crushed, and her lip began to quiver. 

"No," she said, choking back a sob. "Please, no."

Master was going to leave her again, after she had been so good, never once trying to touch him or please him without his permission. Every night for a month she had to lie beside him, burning with desire for him. It didn't make any sense to her: it was obvious that he was masturbating before bed time, trying not to be aroused. 

Why would he prefer his hand to me? What am I doing wrong?

"It's getting harder every night to be here," he said. "And you should be better enough now to be able to sleep on your own."

Once, Audrey would have shut down in the presence of this kind of stress. Her mind would go blank, she'd forget where she was, and then, as if in a dream, she'd look out the window, onto the snow-covered world of peace and blank, thoughtless serenity. Only part of what Alex said was true. She was better now, stronger, and she wasn't going to let Master go again without trying her damnedest to hold on to him.

"If it's getting harder," she said, more pointedly than Alex expected, "then you should let me take care of it. I know what you've told me: I'm brainwashed to want you, you're this bad, evil guy. But all I can remember are the times you took care of me, and all I feel is that I want you to...to make love to me. You don't even have to be my Master. You can pretend to be just Alex if you want, if it makes things better for you. Just don't pull away from me, that's all I'm asking."

Alex took a deep breath.

"Give me five minutes to think. Wait here."

He walked outside, mind reeling. Alex had to admit that he had gotten used to the damaged, fragile creature he'd found here months ago, and that Audrey had a point. Her desires for him might be mental conditioning, it was true, but she no longer seemed like a wounded bird. For someone without many memories before a couple of months ago, she was a surprisingly enjoyable conversation partner. He'd tried to keep her at arm's length, but for the second time, he'd failed.

He was reliving it again, how it went when he was a research assistant and she was supposed to be his subject. The protocol had been sensory deprivation, absence of human contact. He was to wear a facemask and coveralls and use a distinctive, harsh voice when speaking to her. The goal was to disconnect her from other people, to better be able to map the specific brain chemistry of her thoughts and emotions. With the other nine subjects, Alex had experienced no problems, but there had always been something different about Audrey. 

It wasn't just that she was beautiful, but that she had something...familiar. She seemed sad inside, yet she fought against it. He felt an immediate connection with her, a connection that led him to break protocol, to speak to her in his real voice, to let her see his face. On the way out of the disciplinary hearing room, where the entire team had been banned from future scientific research and tossed out of the university, the research project director told Alex that his breach of protocol was responsible for Audrey's condition. No other subjects experienced anything like the catastrophic brain damage she suffered, and Alex was to blame for it.

Now he was getting too close to her again, unable to resist his feelings for her. He had come back to stop the destructive spiral she was in, because he felt responsible for ruining her life. Now, he had all but moved into her house, slept in her bed, felt her gorgeous body move against his in the night, and wished he could take her then and there.

It had been easy to maintain his composure when she was so clearly wounded, intermittently coherent and unable to piece together a sense of herself and her own life. She had been too damaged to see as anything but someone to care for and nurture.

With his help, though, she had changed. Her mind had healed: she knew who she was, where she was, how she had gotten to this point in her life. Each day was connected to the next; she could make plans, recall their conversations, learn knew things. She was getting better.

But there were limits: this conditioning to worship him, to see him as her Master, was permanent. Of that he was certain. Without him in her life, she would almost suddenly slowly regress; to leave her was to throw away all of the progress she had made. In a very real way, Alex realized, he could only leave her for good at the cost of her very identity.

He held onto the door knob for a moment before opening it. Could he really do what he knew he had to do?

"Audrey, baby?"

He hadn't meant that last part, but in a way he was glad it had slipped out. Her eyes lit up when he said it, and he knew that he had to commit to what he was about to do.

"Yes, Alex?"

He knew using his real name was probably hard for her. Somewhere along the line, she'd built this Master identity for him in her mind; he certainly hadn't done it. In all likelihood, she simply slotted him into a role she had always wanted and needed for someone to play. Her submissiveness wasn't their creation, only something they'd stumbled upon by accident.

"I was wrong to talk about leaving. I'll move in with you. And...you can...ummm...'please' me. Or, I guess, we can 'please' each other...as long as we don't call it 'please' any more, because that actually is way too weird for me. So, let's say that when you feel like...Christ this is awkward."

Audrey had an irrepressible smile on her face. The day she had waited for so long to come had finally arrived.

"When can I start?" she asked. "I've already had to wait so long."

Alex was flustered.

"Do you...you know...need me to tell you what to do?"

"You mean command me?" Audrey replied with a wicked grin, "That would be nice—"

"No," Alex said. "I mean, I don't know if you've done any of this before; I guess you don't either."

Audrey sauntered over towards Alex, taking hold of his waist.

"I've done everything for you, Master," she said with glee, momentarily forgetting how many times Alex had explained to her that those memories weren't real.

Alex almost stopped everything at that point, before he felt Audrey lean in to him softly, gripping him and cradling her head into his chest.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she whispered. "It feels so real. I...I know I'm not a virgin." 

Alex flashed back in his mind to the horrible things he'd heard, about Audrey wandering around campus at night, disheveled and confused. Awful things had happened to her, though neither one of them knew enough to be specific as to what. He felt a sudden protective feeling surge through him, and for the first time, he thought about making her feel good, and not just "better."

"Don't be sad, baby," he said, feeling like he was talking to a lover and not a patient, "it's OK. We'll go slow together."

Alex pulled Audrey into a kiss, the first time he had taken the lead. Though she had loved the time she stole a kiss from him, it felt so much more fulfilling to know he was taking her, and she simply submitted to his invading tongue, his kiss passionate and fierce. They were through over-thinking things; finally, he was going to take her and she could simply give in and enjoy it.

Master's hands were all over her, frantically stripping her. Audrey let him explore her body, touching her all over. The build-up of months had made her more ready than this moment than she could imagine. She didn't try to take off Master's clothes; being naked while he was still clothed was strangely arousing to her, and Master had yet to even unbutton his shirt when she stood before him completely naked, her pussy already beginning to drip its juices down her thigh. Their eyes met, and she silently begged Master for him to command her, knowing that hearing his voice, that voice, would take her to the next level.

Alex's eyes look wild, desperate, and out of control. A battle raged inside him, the fire inside reflected in the intense abandon of his gaze. They both knew what he had to do; in their own way, they both wanted it. All that remained was for Alex to shatter the chains of guilt that held him in check.

"Suck my cock, slave"

Audrey barely had time to register what had just happened when she felt her pussy clench and spasm, the orgasm wracking her body and bringing her, appropriately enough, to her knees. 

He called me "slave."

She knew he'd finally come back to her, finally taken her back to be his again.

"Yes, Master," she said breathlessly, still recovering from her control-induced orgasm.

She unzipped his pants and pulled out his stiff member, before feathering it with soft kisses. She could barely focus on serving him, as she felt such intense emotion and gratitude at the moment, that she simply wished to show him how much she loved him. There would be time in a moment to perform for him, to bring him to his climax, but now she simply wished to worship him, so that he'd never forget her love for him. She kissed and licked him, babbling "thank yous" and "I love yous" between her oral ministrations.

Alex stood above her, stroking her tangled blonde curls and pulling her hair, causing spikes of intensely satisfying pain in her head. He stroked her cheek, telling her how good she's been, how much he loved her, and how long he'd waited for this moment.

Audrey took him into her mouth for the first time. The warmth of his aching hard cock excited her; it was like she could feel his heartbeat. She was connected to him again, and for a moment, Audrey simply let his manhood slide into her mouth and against the passage of her throat, hoping perhaps that she could take all of him in.

When her throat muscles resisted, Audrey felt a sting of guilt and shame. She knew that pleasing Master now was all that mattered. She bobbed her head up and down, allowing her fingers to trace over his weighty balls and below. Master simply groaned, and Audrey looked up at him, doe-eyed.

Master gave her a glare of possession. In that moment, she felt a vicarious thrill of power. Master owned her then, and he held absolute power. But Master's cock, the source of his strength, was sliding between her pouty lips. She was worshiping him, serving him, pleasing him—and that was its own kind of power. She remembered how it used to feel, when Master would spank her bare ass and force feed his stiff rod into her warm, wet mouth. 

Who cares if it's a delusion? It makes me hot just thinking about it.

Alex's self-imposed celibacy meant that he had no chance of holding out for long. Audrey's oral devotion was far too pleasurable, and soon, Master could barely muster the wherewithal to remember the command voice.

"Swallow my sperm, slave."

Audrey thought about how excited she had been for the grapes that first night. Their sweet flavor, though, could not compare to the taste of Master's semen. Though it was salty and unusual, it was also the most delectable thing she could ever imagine, and she felt a thrill with each powerful spurt into her inviting mouth. So enamored of its taste was she, that she almost wanted to disobey Master, if only for a moment, and hold it with her for just a bit longer.

Then she thought about what it would mean to swallow Master's seed, to carry a little bit of him inside her. It was an act of utter devotion to him, and swallowing demonstratively, she opened her mouth wide to prove her obedience.

Master kissed her on the forehead.

"Are you good?" he asked her, his voice more tentative than before.

"Better than good," she purred. "Perfect."

"We're just getting started," he said, his wits returning to him.

Alex didn't need much time to recover, in part because his erection never went away. He guided Audrey over to the couch, laying her down gently. The imperious, dominant figure who'd ordered her to blow him had given way to the kind, loving Master as concerned about her pleasure as his own.

"Lay back, baby," he said solicitously, "and let me do this."

Audrey reclined her body against the sofa, as Alex knelt between her legs. He wasted no time before kissing the inside of her left thigh, making his way ever closer to her sensitive core. She felt his tongue make contact with her labia, spreading her open to lap at the slickened opening of her sex, and she felt herself thoughtlessly take hold of his head. She felt something wrong: why was he doing this? Did she do something wrong, to make him do it? She had held his head, like she could control him—would he be angry?

"What's wrong, baby?" he asked, looking up at her with his chin glistening with her feminine juices.

"You don't have to—I can do it for you. You don't have to—"

"Lay back so I can eat your pussy, slave."

Holy shit, that feels good.

Her mind at rest, Audrey was able to fully enjoy what Master and his wonderful tongue were doing to her. Her anxieties were gone; knowing she was doing what her Master wanted only served to reinforce the physical pleasure she was experiencing.

"I love you Master," she said between moans. "I want to feel you inside me."

Master looked up at Audrey for a moment. He seemed as if he wanted to speak, only to return to licking and sucking at Audrey's pussy. As his fingers danced across her clit, she lunged forward, as if to bury his face into her, and came all over his face. She could smell the musky scent of her sex and prayed that Master would be happy with her.

Master didn't speak, but instead collapsed beside her, his cock still undiminished in hardness. Audrey reached for it, tentatively at first, before stroking it softly.

"Is something wrong, Master?"

"I almost said something I shouldn't," he said, groaning from the pleasure of Audrey's soft hands on his tool. "It's not your fault."

Audrey looked at Master, whose face couldn't help but betray the constant war that seemed to go on in his mind. His eyes rolled backed a little, and Audrey sensed that talking was a bad idea now. She threw one leg over him, straddling his body and lining up his cock with her pussy.

"Master, please do it again," she begged. "Use the voice."

Alex looked deeply into her crystalline blue eyes. He felt her sink slowly onto his cock, her arms around him and her gorgeous tits pressed against his own chest. His hands moved to her firm, full ass, and he thought about how frail and underfed she looked just two months ago. Her body definitely looked—and felt—better, now that she was healthy again. He squeezed her ass and she squealed a little. He couldn't resist her.




Better Ch. 01



"Ride my cock, slave, until you come."

Audrey began to bounce up and down, her clit making contact with Alex's body every time she bottomed out on his dick. He was stretching her in all the right ways, and she felt herself filled. The harder he gripped her ass from behind, the harder she wanted him to fuck her. She felt his hips thrust upwards, meeting her halfway in her strokes, and her upper body pitched forward, until their lips were intertwined and there was no more separation between them.

"Yes, Master, please, yes!" she cried, though there was little thought behind her words any longer.

Neither one of them could think, only react; they fucked with passionate desperation, so long had they struggled in their own way with being apart. Their bodies felt right together, like they belonged together. Sweat cascaded off Audrey's forehead, while Alex felt his legs begin to quaver.

Audrey made an incomprehensible, high-pitched cry of ecstasy, and Alex felt her clench him so tightly from the inside that he almost thought she would force him out of her. He held on for dear life, never ceasing to fuck her hard. He was too far gone when he realized with terror that he'd never seen Audrey with any kind of birth control. Before he could even think to pull out, he flooded her womb with his hot semen, and Audrey cooed for him gratefully, thanking him over and over for coming back to her, as if this wasn't there first time together.

Alex laid back, still erect and still buried deep inside Audrey, as she too collapsed against him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "I didn't think about it before, but can you get pregnant?"

"No," she told him with a barely disguised sadness. "I asked Nancy, and she said I have an IUD. You know what those are, right?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "I'm glad at least one of us was smart enough to figure that out."

Audrey felt at peace, still holding a part of Master inside her. She understood why he was afraid of her getting pregnant, though she did not want to reveal to him yet how much she dreamed of one day having his children. She often fantasized about how one day Master would reward her for being such a good girl by letting her have his babies. She knew after today she was one step closer.

For Alex's part, the entire experience was an eye-opener. He knew that Audrey "loved" him; how could she not? What shocked him was how much he wanted to tell her he loved her, because, in truth, he did love her. He probably loved her before all this, if he was being honest with himself, fell in love with her when he was just a research assistant and she was the pretty girl who needed their help. Only so much happened between then and now to make him doubt everything he'd ever felt, thought, or done. Could he really have something real with Audrey, when he'd never know whether her love for him was real or just a symptom?

He also knew that Audrey's desires were going to push further into the realms of submission. She had come almost immediately when he called her "slave." She'd come to them years ago with problems of irrational and crippling guilt, and the Master persona she'd built for him in her mind seemed to be the only figure who could ease her feelings of shame—through punishment. That time would undoubtedly come.

Though he'd failed at every step of the way thus far, he promised that this time, he'd draw boundaries and not let himself get too caught up in things. He was here for Audrey, to make her better. He couldn't stand being there, wanting her so bad and never getting to have her, so now he wouldn't resist. As of today, he was going to have sex with Audrey: he wanted it, and she did too.

Only falling in love with her was a cruel delusion. Her mind was irreparably altered to feel this way towards him. She had no choice. He did. He could keep things in perspective. He could make sure that she didn't end up getting hurt. He had seen the look of sadness when she mentioned birth control. They could never be a 'normal' couple; how would they ever have kids?

Alex finally began to grow soft, and he slipped out of Audrey, who sighed with longing, missing him inside her already.

"Come on, baby, let's get cleaned up. I think we have a lot of things to talk about..."

End of Part One of Three



Better Ch. 02



Chapter 2 - Andrea

Robert left me in a very softly terrible way. I wanted more than anything than to fall into his arms and just melt together, bodies conjoined until they melted like butter ... for hours.

But wasn't Robert. He's direct. He's rough. He runs the show. And there's lots of action. Tons of it. Non stop. He doesn't even have to ask. He just locks those steel gray eyes into mine and in no time I am twitching for him, my breast feel like they're going to explode. He'll just either tear my clothes off, or walk me straight to the bedroom, get to the business of ripping off our own clothing, and figure out every possible way to make use of every square inch of the mattress and the edges that surround it ... and the posts at the heads and ends of his bed.

The first time we were together, we couldn't get the clothes off each quickly enough. He made it a point of telling me boldly and loudly that I was going to be his compliant slut for the night because it will be everything I've wanted. It was. I didn't know I could keep my legs buried into my chest as long as I did when he cowered over me and drilled me like as if I were a steel beam ... over and over again ... in short rapid bursts that made the bottom of my cunt ooze and switch a tightening grip that come from below, clenched onto the tip of his cock until it finally held his entire cock captive, making him not being able to make it move. When I finally released my grip, he certainly liked taking his time his dick back and forth inside of a pussy that was wetter than in any porno movie, at least the ones I have seen. I loved how he felt, as if her were orchestrating the hardest and straightest dick I ever saw. It was like it was a thick baton that led a single organ orchestra. A loud orchestra. One with a deep, heavy bass section, deep-bottomed kettle drums, and screaming metal guitars. Like Jimi Hendrix playing all of the parts of the 1812 Overture, except the crescendos are my low, growling moans that come up slowly and hoarse, and then lead to a screaming, crashing bang. He felt like a cannon in the way he laid on his back, knees bent, allowing me to hold onto his knees with my hands so I could slide my whole body as I slid up and then down his cock as far as I could take him. It made me gush all over his groin, his belly, and all over between us, and it made him shoot the hardest, hottest and most powerful stream of semen I ever felt. I smelled like sex for days. And then I wouldn't hear from him for several days at a time.

That should have pissed me off, but it didn't. I just kind of accepted that he was a nice guy who was a blast to work with and teach, soaked up every photography trick I taught him, was great for some deep and open conversations about anything going on in the world, and fucked like a rock star that had his not too tall, slim and incredibly flexible body. I would have never accepted that kind of in and out behavior from anyone else. I pretty much wanted a man who understood how to connect to my soul before connecting with any body part. I had that with both Robert and Michael, but I also wanted a man who wanted me in a way where I felt was treasured and valued me as a one of a kind that had no equal. I didn't get that from either of them. Sure, Michael treated me that way, but at the end of our trips, it was his wife who got the same treatment as I and they were a real couple, not one that had to show discretion when they were seen in public. We weren't a couple that I could tell my closest girlfriend about. And Robert? I didn't really get his game. We're so focused on each other when we work together, sit back and talk philosophical about everything but our lives over beers and a stick of 420, and then fuck again and again, until he just can't hold out any longer. Sometimes that would be for hours. Sometimes he'd come and get instantly hard again. But in the end, he left, and I really had no connection with him until the next time we had a chance to work on something together or he called to just fuck. 

My head kept going over the pluses and the minuses of both men all night. I felt wracked with awkwardness for telling Robert how I felt about him and not getting much of a reaction from him. I felt deceitful for wanting to be with Robert while Michael had no clue there was another man in my life. Kind of. Sort of.

I never got to sleep. By the time I got tired, it was already time for me to get into the shower, do my hair, put on my makeup, and get dressed to pick up Michael from the airport. By the time I got on the freeway, I felt it was mine to command, my car sometimes being the only one on four lanes, zooming through the middle of the city to get to the airport on the other side of town. I played Lauryn Hill's "Killing Me Softly" over and over again, singing along to it as slowly, loudly and strongly as she sang the song herself. It felt like the way I wanted to make love to Michael as soon as I could get him behind closed doors, which couldn't be soon enough. Actually, I wanted to fuck him like a jackal, but that wasn't Michael's style.

I timed myself to find a spot in front of the door he would be coming out of, and to lean against the side of the car dressed in a royal blue trench coat that barely covered the top hem of my stockings and the clips of a black garter belt that he sent to me when he was away in France one time. They went with the black lace bra with a push-up bra with a nude lining that I was also wearing. All that and a pair of sheer hose and a pair of Christian Loubotin knock-off pumps was all I wore. I had a dress in a bag in the back just in case he wanted to make a stop for breakfast on the way. It wasn't necessary.

He had the cheekiest smile on his face as he walked toward me. His kiss was unlockingly welcoming, his hands groped my ass without anyone noticing. He held me against him to let me know the next thing he wanted to do was had nothing to do with standing in an airport arrival curb in front of dozens of travelers and taxicabs.

We got into the car and he said, "I need to get to the Townsend. I have a meeting."

"A meeting? Really?" I was a bit disappointed, but I sometimes knew work was sometimes involved with his trips to town.

"Yes, with a sassy and sexy woman ," he said. "Product testing. 300-count Egyptian sheets. In-room stereo system. A two-person Jacuzzi overlooking the park across the street. Supposedly the best brunch in town, served privately for two."

Damn, it wasn't necessary. I spent the last two nights cleaning up my place. But who could pass this up, especially a room on the top floor that had its own elevator key in the most elite part of town? A place known for lodging CEOs, dignitaries, movie stars and rock star under a guarded cloak of privacy and discretion. The hotel was known for its heavily worded and enforced non-disclosure agreement it had with all of its employees ... even the ones who worked in the kitchen and the boiler room and never saw a guest. 

As soon as the bellhop left, he quickly got to untying the sash of my coat and unfastening each button slowly. He let the coat slip off my shoulders, down my arms, and onto the floor as he pulled my body firmly against him with hands that softly swept down my back from my shoulder blades to the bottom curves of the cheeks of my ass, softly cupping them as I unbuttoned and pulled off his golf shirt and made his trousers and boxers disappear. My touches mimicked his, hands barely gliding over the skin of lips with the contours of his body, finding those unsuspecting spots that got his dick hard without ever touching it. They were the same touches he used that made me unaware that I was opening my legs and waiting for him to slide his fingers over my wet and wanting pussy lips before slipping them in, at first one, then two, then tree, swirling them within my tightly confined walls until he couldn't reach the tips of his fingers any deeper or any faster inside of me. It was my orgasm, only for me ... this time. The other four times, it was about us together, getting his cock saturated with my juices as he slid it in and out of me, building up speed and intensity every time I came. I wanted to feel the tightening of his body release as he came inside of me, but he held off until after the moment I let out a cry that seemed to go on for minutes. Not one or two, but five, maybe ten. I don't know. It was unending ecstasy even I was surprised I could sustain as he pummeled me from above as he savored the buildup I could tell was wracking every muscle inside of him. 

After he was finally spent and after his long, luxurious strokes inside of me, a grin broke out onto his face, and he looked me in the eyes and said, "Good morning, my love. I've been thinking of starting the morning with you like this since the last time we were together." I wrapped my arms and legs around him and was surprised he hadn't gone soft inside of me. In time, we were at it again, only more actively and acrobatically. He took me to the edge of the bed, held my legs up at twelve and three, coming into me standing at an angle that made me gush not once, but twice, soaking the edge of the mattress for as far as I could feel. Our cries comingled in a sweet, raw harmony that didn't want to have an ending. But when it did end, he was full of smiles and playful kisses with only a sheet on top of us to retain our warmth we generated earlier.

I never left town and this felt just as much like a vacation as anywhere we traveled together. Even my thoughts of Robert left town ... or at least my mind.



Better Ch. 02



***Author's Note: For anyone just stepping into this story, read part one first—it's heavily serialized. This story deserves the BDSM tag a lot more than last chapter, which simply set that aspect up. It's not something I have a lot of experience writing, but I've been experimenting with some of the ideas from the particular angle of this unique relationship. Thanks to everyone who commented on the first part; I looked forward to hearing constructive feedback from you guys. -Theworldspins***



There was a fine line that Alex Vartas walked when he was whipping his slave's ass. When he whipped her too softly, for fear of causing her harm, he could tell, though she'd never just come out and admit it, that a little part of her was left unsatisfied. Yet to lose control, to go too far and actually hurt Audrey, would be unthinkable. He had enough guilt about what he had done to her in the past, what he was doing to her now, to compound that feeling by causing her lasting damage.

"Thank you, Master," Audrey intoned between gasps. "Please show your bad girl how to be good."

"Good girls don't..."

Shit—why exactly am I supposed to be punishing her right now? Oh, that's right.

"...steal the covers at night. You made me cold, slave."

In Alex's mind, the whole thing could get a little silly. They both knew that this wasn't actually punishment. What's more, any excuse would suffice when Audrey needed him to play rough with her. But for Audrey, he could play the part, and if the part called for a soft leather whip and a naked, hogtied slave, then he could manage.

"I'm sorry Master. Please punish your slave for her error."

The third person stuff had thrown him at first, but it all eventually made sense. In a lot of ways, he'd learned to be the domineering figure Audrey craved just by reading her body reactions, as well as the subtle ways she entered into the submissive frame of mind when they started to play.

"Open your mouth, slave. I want you to treat this fake cock like it belongs to me. You try to make it cum."

Trussed up, with her hands bounds to her ankles, and lying naked on her stomach, Audrey eyed the 7" thick dildo affixed to the table in front of her. She knew not to mention that she couldn't reach it, and instead wriggled forward as best she could so that her mouth could line up with the rubber fuck toy.

"Suck it, baby," Master commanded. 

Audrey apparently didn't want him to have to ask again. She lowered her head onto the fake cock, as drool began to form at the edges of her mouth.

"Good girl," Alex said softly, caressing her back and arms. He ran his fingers through her blonde curls as she slowly lowered her face onto the cock, its width stretching her lips.

"I want your nose to touch the table," Master said. "Try for me—if you can't, I'm going to have to whip your pink little ass."

Audrey could feel her pussy getting wet at Master's dirty talk. She remembered feeling stressed out earlier today, when she couldn't remember where she left the canvas bags they used for shopping. She'd gotten emotional, as she always did when her memory failed her, and Alex had promised that tonight he'd be her Master, he'd take care of her. He'd tested her before, as he always did, and she remembered every bit of that, even though the negative emotions that led her to the padded table, where she was busy fellating a dildo and preparing to be whipped and then fucked were gone. On the table, there was nothing but joy and desire—even when her body felt pain. He was certain of that.

"You're not touching the table," he said to her, tracing the leather strips of the whip against Audrey's spine, down to the crack of her ass. "Don't you love Master's cock?"

When all this started, all Alex wished was that Audrey would be better. When he thought spoon-feeding her would work, he did it. When she needed him by her side to sleep, he did it. He bathed her. He massaged her body. She needed to please him, to serve him, so he allowed her to. He let her kiss his feet and suck his toes, though it felt indescribably odd at first. When he told her to serve him however she thought was right, she stuck her tongue in his asshole. Alex let her. Of course he let Audrey blow him—it seemed almost normal compared to the elaborate things she dreamed up to worship him, and Audrey never once let a drop of his cum go to waste.

At first they made love, and that was all Alex wanted, too, because, as Audrey got better, she got more normal. She knew who she was. She knew how to make him laugh. They shared things, things no one else could ever know, and slowly he realized that he wasn't stuck with her out of guilt, he looked forward to being with her more than anything.

CRACK

The sound of the whip as it split the air in two and struck Audrey's soft, tender flesh was bracing.

Something that sounded like a "thank you," only muffled by a thick rod of rubber, emerged from Audrey's no doubt exhausted mouth.

When this started, I just wanted to make love to you. Now I want to fuck your ass hard, slave.

Alex pressed her head down, helping her to touch the tip of her nose to the table. He knew from hard-won experience how far he could push; she had little remaining gag reflex, but he still had no desire to tempt fate and make her retch. He just needed to follow through with what he said before.

CRACK

Once more the plump flesh of Audrey's gorgeous ass jiggled from the impact of the whip. He could see it turning red.

"Get off that fucking cock, slave," he barked. "I want to hear you while I fuck you."

Having just cleaned her thoroughly, Alex knew there would be no harm warming up her asshole with his tongue. They had only recently expanded their play to include anal, but already it had become one of Audrey's favorite things. When he asked her to explain why, all she said was that his cock belonged deep inside her, and that putting it in her ass made her feel like she was giving him something that not every woman could or would give him.

It was all part of the transformation Alex felt inside himself. If being with him made Audrey better, he sometimes thought that being with her made him worse. He didn't exactly feel worse; in fact, he'd never felt better. Having an insatiable, submissive sex slave to cater to his every need sated his lust. Being with Audrey, though, had made him question who he was as a person. 

I'm hurting her. Her ass has got to hurt after this.

Alex stopped tonguing Audrey's ass long enough to rub some soothing lotion onto her ass cheeks. It would make it feel better when he drove his cock into her ass.

"Are you sorry now, Audrey?"

"Yes Master, please don't take it away."

The way she objectified his cock always made him aroused, like it was a prize for her to win.

"Oh, don't worry, baby. I'm going to put it deep inside your hot little ass. You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes," Audrey cooed, her face only inches from the spit-slickened dildo that had until a moment ago been plundering her throat.

Alex pushed a lube-coated finger inside, preparing the way.

"Then let go and let me in."

With his raging hard cock lined up with her anus, Alex thrust forward, a surge of pleasure filling him that could not have exceeded the pain Audrey must have felt, having her sphincter stretched wide by his invading cock. He could only trust that she was always honest with him, that she found the pain clarifying, liberating even, and that she welcomed that pain much more than he longed to give it.

He always had considerable stamina when fucking Audrey, pussy or ass, though only because she had usually drained him almost dry beforehand. These kinds of longer sessions always took place at night, and rare was the day when Alex didn't find his sexy little slave putting on a pouty look in the morning, begging for a chance to suck him off before work. Of course, he almost always let her—it made her as happy as it made him. But still he couldn't shake the feeling that, however and for whatever reason it had happened, there was still something just incontrovertibly wrong about possessing another person, body, mind, and soul, the way he owned Audrey.

As if she was reading his mind, Audrey began encouraging him even more.

"Fuck me, Master! Own my ass! Make me cum, Master!"

Audrey wanted him to lay claim to her. The more possessive he was, the less anxiety she felt about him possibly leaving her.

"This ass belongs to me," he grunted, thrusting hard into her. 

He liked pulling her to the edge of the table when she was hog-tied like this, since he could fuck her with more powerful thrusts when he was standing up. Alex reached down to grab the sides of her head, hooking a couple of fingers on the right side into her mouth.

"Your pussy belongs to me. Your ass belongs to me. Your mouth belongs to me. Your tits belong to me. This hair belongs to me..."

This table belongs to you. This house belongs to you. Those cars belong to you. That bank account belongs to you.

"Fill me please, Master!"

Alex felt ripples of pleasure in his cock, no doubt caused by the muscles inside Audrey straining to force him out. He watched beads of sweat form on her back, rolling down into the valley formed by the way her legs were lifted. Then he buried himself fully inside her, reveling in the feeling of her hot anal passage flexing around him.

"Cum for me slave."

Audrey's body shook, and Alex felt bad for not filling her pussy with at least a vibrator while he fucked her anally. She never asked for that kind of thing, but it didn't mean he shouldn't be vigilant about meeting her needs.

He hadn't much time to beat himself up over that oversight, before he felt his knees grow wobbly and his balls tighten. Unloading his pent-up cum into Audrey's hot, tight ass was a feeling more impossibly perfect than Alex could have imagined. He felt his torso ripple, as if his body was squeezing every bit of semen into her possible, and a vision, dangerous yet irrepressible, of letting go like this into her fertile pussy, filling her with his life-giving seed, flickered across his mind.

When his brain started to work again, Alex pulled his cock slowly from Audrey's backside and grabbed a wet wipe kept in a cabinet near the table. Though Audrey had begged to have the right to clean his cock straight out of her ass, he had never felt comfortable enough to let her do this one thing. He always wiped down, discretely, before presenting his member to her.

"Show me how grateful you are," he said softly but firmly, as Audrey took him once more into her mouth, lavishing his cock with the attention of her expert tongue.

"That was amazing!" she said when she was finished. "It feels like a whole gallon inside me."

Alex was always amazed by Audrey's almost manic liveliness after a heavy session of sex and discipline. The willpower to dominate her, to spank, torture, and tease her, not to mention his relentless pounding of her tight pussy, or in this case ass, left him both mentally and physically drained. Conversely, Audrey positively hummed with energy; he felt like he needed IV fluids, while she looked ready to build a new wing on the house.

Alex untied her with a glazed-over expression, his slick, red cock bobbing up and down as he worked. Once she was free, he checked her wrists and ankles. No burns or bruises: he was getting better at hog-tying.

Not a skill I ever planned on picking up.

"Master, what's your name?" Audrey said in the deepest voice she could muster. "And...what was your third-grade guinea pig's name?"

Alex smiled. It felt good to hear her teasing him, mocking his constant memory exercises. Most of the time, he liked having a girlfriend more than he lied having a slave.

"My name is Master. Master...Bates," he said in a monotone.

Audrey giggled.

"Master, you've forgotten your name!" she said in faux surprise. "I...I didn't...did I?"

She pretended to cry, pressing her face into Alex's chest. She startled him by raising her head to the sky, her arms out in imitation of a silly movie they'd watched weeks ago.

"I fucked Master's brains out! Noooooo!"

Alex grabbed her by the waist and pulled himself on top of her, tickling her sides until she could barely breathe.

"You're gonna make me pee!" she panted.

"If I'm lucky," Alex shot back in jest.

He could see something change in Audrey's eyes, a flash that almost past him by. He stopped tickling her.

"I can pee myself, if that's what you want, Master," she said breathily.

Alex froze.

"No, baby, it was just a joke. Please, please, keep your pee to yourself."

Audrey looked embarrassed, and Alex knew she would need him to spank her later and tell her that he forgave her for her mistake. He kissed her forehead, hoping to ease her mind and spare her ass for a while, still glowing red from before.

"You ready?" he asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Can't we just lay around a little while? Maybe on the bed."

Alex didn't much want to move, holding her. Audrey looked beautiful, her lithe, naked body glistened with sweat, her ass bright red, radiating heat. He drank in her body, sated and content.

"We can do it on the love seat," he said, as if he were making some big concession. "But I want you to take it seriously."

Audrey stopped smiling and adopted a blank, almost robotic expression. 

Shit, she's not—

Alex's fears were allayed the second Audrey winked at him. She wasn't in a submissive trance—she was still just teasing him. He took her over to the love seat to sit down on his lap, a thick red towel laid out to prevent even more of their sexual fluids from staining the upholstery.

"That's a funny way of being serious," he said. "What movie did you get that screaming business from?"

Audrey smirked. She can be so bratty when I give her an easy one.

"Austin Powers. You told me they were making fun of a bunch of other movies where that happens. I thought you would—"

"No, baby, you were cute. I liked it," Alex said. "It just stuck in my mind for the test. What did we eat that night?"

Audrey wrinkled her forehead a little. Alex loved it even more when she had to think, and since it had been a while, he didn't expect her to remember this one. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, before her rose-colored lips curled into a wry smile.

"Gumbo!"

"How the hell did you—"

"Don't you remember spilling some on the table, and I licked it up for you? That was the same night you made me lick your cum off the ground as a punishment."

Alex blushed. Talking to Audrey was full of these kinds of moments—she'd get painfully embarrassed if she messed up a joke or forgot where she left her keys, but she would describe the filthiest things completely shamelessly, with a big grin on her beautiful face.

"Maybe you did fuck my brains out," he replied, "because I don't think I would have remembered that without you."

Audrey beamed with pride. He knew that she interpreted her recovery as a way of proving her devotion to him. For her, getting better meant being better for him.

"OK, just one more for now. This one's in your wheelhouse: what was the movie we watched the next night after Austin Powers?"

Audrey stopped smiling. Her eyes rolled a little, and Alex could see her getting more and more tense. He wouldn't let this go on for long. She would do this for five minutes before admitting she couldn't remember. He held her hand up to his mouth and kissed it gently, looking directly into her eyes. She looked disappointed.

"Backdoor Sluts 5," he deadpanned, before Audrey's lips curled into a playful snarl and she slapped the side of his arm.

"You're bad!" she drawled. "You're a bad, bad man."

"And you're a bad little girl, but I need some time to recharge before I show you just how bad you've been."

"Yes, Master," Audrey said teasingly, perched in the uncertain space between a shared joke and a tacit acknowledgement of Audrey eternal devotion to serving Alex, to making his happiness the center of her universe, to obeying him unquestioningly and unhesitatingly.

How fucked up is it that I'm getting used to this?

***

It was nice to be bored for a while. Ever since he had walked up to Audrey's door and back into her life, Alex had been living on an emotional precipice. For months, he had avoided scrutiny and questions. The first hurdle had been convincing Audrey's home care nurse that she was no longer needed. It had been surprisingly difficult to convince the woman to simply cash a check not to come to work. In the end, she was swayed by Audrey's cogent argument—not simply because the argument made sense, but more importantly by how clear-headed and focused Audrey was when making it.

In the end, Nancy had agreed not to inform Audrey's aunt Diane, who held power of attorney over her, about Audrey's new circumstances. Audrey had even enrolled in ordinary psychotherapy to give her aunt a convenient excuse for her sudden improvement. After four months of therapy and a helpful letter from her doctor, Audrey was in charge of her own, quite sizable bank account, free from intrusive visits from outsiders, and devoted full-time to taking care of the house for Master.

Alex felt strange about that. He had always seen himself as a progressive kind of guy, and the idea of having a stay-at-home girlfriend, let alone a personal slave, was hard to wrap his head around. Granted, the circumstances were beyond unique: Audrey was filthy rich, the house was hers, and she didn't need to work anyway. Oh, and she was brainwashed to follow his every whim. There was that.

Alex felt a vibration in his pocket, and he instinctively looked around the office furtively. The walls of his cubicle were small, and he wasn't supposed to be on his personal phone during work hours. The dreary hum of office machines surrounded him, almost lulling him to sleep. His manager Gavin, a gruff and unpleasant man of sixty, was too nearby for him to feel safe checking his phone just yet. 

Without an advanced degree or much experience in the "real world," he'd been lucky to parlay his computer skills into an IT job at a small firm. He hadn't kept in touch with anyone from the research project—especially since many blamed him for Audrey's fate—but he could imagine how difficult it had been for the senior faculty tossed out of academia, tenure be damned, and barred from future employment in the cognitive sciences. At least he had a paycheck and could take care of himself. Living on Audrey's settlement money would have been too humiliating for him to contemplate.

The mechanical hum almost hypnotizing him, Alex watched his boss stride past him as if he wasn't there. Alex knew immediately where he was headed, and soon enough, Gavin began to hover over Hang, a new requisitions analyst. She was a petite but curvy Vietnamese girl, probably about 22 Alex assumed, who always seemed to have an older white man in middle-management checking up on her. Alex had heard the way the older guys talked about her: most of the men of the office had unanimously agreed that she just had "that look." 

When Alex asked what they meant, one of his co-workers, a lecherous old sales manager named Billy, explained: 

"She just looks like that kinda bitch who knows her way around a dick, you get it?"

Alex hadn't participated in that conversation much longer.

He rolled his eyes to himself as Gavin adopted a patronizing, superior tone while explaining to Hang what a great addition she'd been to office morale. 

Can't you hear how fucking ridiculous you sound? You're treating her like a piece of property.

The irony of his gut reaction wasn't lost on Alex; had he been clueless enough not to consider his own situation, the sight of Audrey on all fours, sucking a large, fairly realistic looking 8" dildo attached to the bedroom mirror by a suction cup that greeted him when he discretely checked his phone couldn't have failed to remind him. 




Better Ch. 02



For Alex, his workdays were the only time apart from Audrey. Where once he'd go whole days without speaking to anyone other than his co-workers, now work became the place he actually felt most alone, which wasn't always a bad thing. Being Master often felt like another full-time job.

Another buzz: with the phone already open, it only took a single button to bring up the image of Audrey licking the top of his pair of black leather boots. It was her special symbol of subservience and a clue that she'd want him to be especially demanding of her tonight. He was used to receiving a few of these dirty pictures a day: they helped Audrey deal with separation from her Master and gave her an outlet for her own kinky form of creativity. Alex liked to imagine Audrey spending hours of the day finding new ways to shock and arouse him.

Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he took a deep breath. In a minute, after his erection had subsided, he would take his lunch. 

Time to respond to my 9,000,000 unanswered e-mails—no better boner-killer...

"Don't think I didn't see you," a feminine voice said with a sexy accent. "Fucking Gavin, staring at my tits again."

Alex looked up to see Hang by his cubicle. He darted his head around, making sure no one heard them speak.

"He's gone to lunch with Kip and Stew," Hang said, rolling her eyes, "so you know he'll be back in, like, three hours with a buzz on."

"Good," Alex said. "There's nothing better for office morale than incapacitating Gavin. Other than you, of course."

Hang rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I sometimes think that one of those bikini calendars could do my job—office morale and all."

Alex waved her cynicism off.

"Don't listen to his shit. You're doing great. I give Gavin another five years until he drinks himself into a ditch. You'll run this place one day."

Hang smiled, and Alex could tell, as distracted as he usually was, that she wasn't just generically smiling. She was smiling at him.

If I didn't have a beautiful blonde sex slave at home...

"Lunch?" she asked.

"Out? I brought spaghetti bolognese."

Hang frowned.

"Fancy—rain check?"

"Absolutely."

Alex watched her ass sway in her tight, pinstriped skirt as she walked away, and realized he wasn't so different from the other guys in the office after all. He would like to fuck the sexy Asian girl, bend her over and paddle her soft, round ass, before jamming his hard cock into her wet pussy and fucking her senseless.

Shit...where did that come from?

***

Alex didn't have time to make out the woman's face. Her hand was in the way, and then pain was in the way.

I don't think I've ever been slapped before.

His face stung. Just a moment before, he'd answered the door without looking, a twenty dollar bill in his hand to pay the delivery guy. He'd been curled up with Audrey, just relaxing and enjoying each others' company. It had already been an eventful Saturday night: they had gotten dressed up, gone out to eat at a nice restaurant, and now they were curled up together with a bottle of wine, waiting for the tiramisu they'd called in from a local deli. Now he was standing in shock in front of an enraged woman who hadn't waited for him to speak before striking him hard across his face.

"You!" she said venomously. "You're the one robbing her! You piece of human garbage—"

"Aunt Diane!" Audrey cried.

As hard as it was, she'd heard the slap and Alex's involuntary scream of shock. Audrey's exclamation caused her aunt to freeze as well.

"You...you remember me?" asked the older woman, blonde like Audrey and close enough in appearance for Alex to make the obvious connection. "Is he hurting—"

"No!" Audrey protested. "He's..."

Alex could tell Audrey was processing, trying to avoid the word "Master" as much as possible. He was glad Audrey's aunt had come on a night where they were simply snuggling together on the sofa: there were no paddles or floggers in sight.

"...he's helping me. Aunt Diane, I'm getting so much better thanks to Alex."

Diane eyed Alex with deep suspicion. Alex felt a burning shame, knowing as he did that Diane was as right about him as Audrey was. He was helping Audrey, but he felt like a bastard just as much.

"Audrey, Mrs. Connally next door told me a man was living here with you. Then I come to find out Nancy isn't even coming over anymore. You know you can't take care of yourself, honey."

Alex looked over at Audrey. Her performance with her aunt was likely to decide whether or not Diane would call the police on him, with all the devastating consequences that would bring not only for him but for Audrey as well.

"I know you remember how I was," she said with confidence, "but...can't you see the difference. I can do a lot more by myself, and it's all because of Alex. He's...he's got me in therapy and everything. And it's helping."

We both know that's a lie, just like everything you tell your therapist. But well done.

"Honey, you can't remember it, but that man is one of the people who hurt you. I'm sure he's lied to you about it, but I can prove it."

Audrey looked down at her Master. Alex could feel her, could see in her eyes things she couldn't say now.

"I know, Aunt Diane. He's one of the men that...that broke me. He never lied about that. But...when mom and dad died, some bad things happened to me. And Ma—Alex found me because he knew what was wrong, and he developed some...some techniques that helped me remember. And I can remember things now. A lot of things."

"You never called Irvin 'dad' before, honey. And the doctors said that soon enough you wouldn't even remember your own name," Diane said. "I...I don't understand this."

Alex finally worked up the nerve to speak.

"Ms...ummm...Diane. I'd love to get a chance to explain—"

"I'm not talking to you," she snapped back. "I'm talking to my niece. You know, the woman you gave brain damage to."

"Diane," Audrey pleaded, "please don't talk to him like that. He's been so good to me, and—"

"And what? He's fixed, what, ten percent of the damage he did? Twenty? Honey, you don't know how bad this man is. You can't."

If he hadn't believed her, Alex would have defended himself. He had the ammunition. 

You've got a lot of nerve talking to me when you were too cheap to even pay for a live-in nurse, bitch. I'll bet you pocketed a bunch of Audrey's settlement money too, just to pay that incompetent cow of a nurse who let her wander the streets alone all day.

Yet Alex didn't give voice to his thoughts, for as much guilt as he thought Diane bore for neglecting Audrey after her parents died, he couldn't deny that she was right about him. He was a thief. He was responsible for ruining Audrey's life. And she didn't even know about Audrey being his personal sex slave. She'd have killed him on the spot if she could have seen the pictures on his phone.

Audrey meanwhile looked terrified. Alex could see her trembling, on the verge of tears, and realized that too much stress, the kind of stress he'd spent the past year trying to relieve for her, would cause her to shut down. They'd talked about what it was like at the window, how peaceful she felt watching the snow fall, what it all might mean. Moreover, Alex knew Audrey's progress was fragile, dependent as it was on his presence and support and on his continuing nurturing of her.

"Honey, I'm going to take you home with me tonight, and he's going to get his things and get the hell—"

Diane was interrupted by Audrey slumping over, as if she was fainting, against the wall, her eyes beginning to glaze over. Alex knew the worst was happening, that he wouldn't be able to sit back. Without considering the possible ramifications, he leapt to her aid.

"Audrey, look at me. Do not go to the window." 

Alex brought her with him to the floor, her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. He could tell Diane noticed the obvious change in his voice.

"Master?" she whispered, low enough that Alex hoped Diane hadn't heard. "Is she going to take you away?"

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised her. "I love you."

"I'm a good girl. I'm a good sla—"

"Yes!" Alex hastened to interrupt her. "You're very good."

By this point, Diane was hovering over him, glaring at him bewildered.

"What is going on here?" she demanded.

"Audrey cannot handle the kind of stress you're putting her under," Alex spat in a low hiss. "So if you're going to throw me in jail for trying to help her now, at least do it quietly, so you don't fuck up all the good she's accomplished."

Diane grew silent, as if she were curious to see how Alex was going to deal with Audrey's panic attack.

"Am I bad? Did I ruin things?" she asked, lightly sobbing.

"No, Audrey, honey, you're doing great. I'll..." Alex hesitated.

He knew Audrey needed the assurance that he would dominate her later. She needed the combination of punishment and release that he could bring her, to discharge the negative emotions brought on by Diane's sudden visit.

"...I'll take care of you soon," he continued. "I'll give you what you need."

Audrey started sucking her thumb; Alex breathed a sigh of relief. In the past, when she had gotten confused or overwhelmed, she had found sucking Alex's cock the best way to calm down. Naturally, he didn't mind this either, though he was glad she' hadn't tried to fish out his member in front of her aunt. She was at least still aware of her circumstances.

Once she was calmer, Alex looked up at Diane.

"Like I said before, I'd be happy to explain what's going on to you. I realize this whole thing seems...shady, but I promise you that I will tell you everything. You can decide what you want to do then. But right now, I'd appreciate it if you left. Audrey is upset, and she needs her therapy right now."

Diane was on her heels. Alex could tell she felt affronted at being told to leave, though on some level he figured she probably wanted to escape from the awkward, mystifying situation unfolding around her.

"Fine," she said, fishing out a business card from her purse and handing it to Alex. "The cell there is my personal number. You call me—soon—and we'll set this thing straight. I'm...I'm not getting the authorities involved. Yet. But if you do anything to hurt her—"

"—then I would throw myself in jail. I'm not just here out of guilt for what we...what I did to Audrey. I've been trying to help for a long time now. I care about her, more than you could ever know."

Diane froze, unsure of what to do, before hastily exiting. In a moment, they were alone again.

"Master, are you mad at me?"

"Not at all," Alex said, helping her back up and over to the couch.

He wasn't surprised when she began to fumble with his belt and zipper, freeing his flaccid penis and putting it in her mouth. Her gentle but insistent sucking had him hard in no time.

"Don't you worry, baby," he promised, "you just suck me now."

His hand roamed slowly over her body. Soon he'd need to spank her, to pinch her nipples hard, to tie her up and torture her with intense orgasms. For a long time, he'd pretended to himself that he was doing this all for her, making up for the wrongs he'd committed. Now, though, he wasn't so sure. The way his cock jumped when he thought about binding Audrey with the black nylon rope he'd hidden in a box beside the bed made it hard for him to deny that he was growing to love the rush of power and dominance he felt. 

If Audrey didn't respond the way she did, if she displayed pain, or fear, or revulsion, he was certain he would never feel the way he felt. But to see her writhe and moan, to beg for him to punish her, to own her, to use her—how could he resist the thrill of being Master?

Maybe I should tell her to stop calling me "Alex" now. I'm getting used to "Master"...

He loved to run his fingers through her curly blonde hair, to massage her scalp as she blew him. He didn't need to use much force to guide Audrey's cute little nose right into his pelvis, to feel her throat spasm all across his invading cock. Hell, he'd basically trained her to do it, and he couldn't deny that, while Audrey desperately wanted to be trained, it had been he who had supplied the specific details that made up her sexual submission on more than one occasion. 

Even if he had forced her face onto his hard cock, though, it would only have served to make things better for her. She wanted him to fuck her face, to make her gag, to spit, and, eventually, to swallow his thick seed. He wasn't going to fight it, even as they were both in emotional turmoil at the time. If sucking his cock made Audrey feel better, then Alex would have to admit, it was making him forget Diane's intrusion as well.

"Take me deep, baby," Alex said.

He didn't usually mix his girlfriend vocabulary and his Master vocabulary, but his mind was elsewhere. At that moment, he truly needed Audrey to be both his lover and his slave.

"That's right, you're my good girl," he said encouragingly, as he felt her nose make contact with the smooth skin where his pubic hair used to be. He'd started shaving out of a desire to make things better for Audrey, and she thanked him by finally eradicating what was left of her throat's resistance to his cock.

On a normal night, Alex would have taken things slow, ordered Audrey to back off to prolong the ecstasy. Tonight wasn't normal, though. He needed to come, and Audrey's mouth was quickly bringing him to that climax. 

Alex felt like all his doubts and concerns left his body as he unloaded into Audrey's hot, wet mouth. He could feel her swallowing, gratefully moaning around his engorged tool.

"Clean me off and say 'thank you,'" he commanded, more for her benefit than his own.

He knew she would have done it anyway, but the feeling of complying willingly with a directive issued in his special voice was a particular thrill for Audrey. He planned on denying her an orgasm for several more hours, though it would have been as easy as flipping a switch to send her over the edge at that moment. She would feel it all the more intensely if he held out until later that night, parrying each subtle request to feel him mount and fuck her with a suggestion she show her gratitude for him by orally servicing him further.

Alex could tell that, in some crucial sense, this wasn't him, wasn't the person he thought he was, and it scared him. He was a science nerd, not some swinging dick or tough guy. He wasn't Christian Grey or the fucking Marquis de Sade. Once Audrey had finished licking him clean and he had stuffed his deflating cock back into his pants, the guilt, the fear, the anxiety would all return.

He felt a strange kinship with Audrey; their "sessions" helped him in much the same way they helped her. No one else, he assumed, would understand it that way; it would be trivially easy to see him purely as an exploitative bastard, taking advantage of a confused young girl for his own perverted needs.

Maybe that's true.

"Master, I...I was bad. Am I going..."

"Baby, you're not bad."

I am.

***

Alex sat nervously on the couch.

Why does she look so calm right now? Doesn't she know how bad this could go?

Audrey turned to him and smiled, still holding onto his hand. Dr. Jacoby had one of those impenetrable therapist faces, open without revealing anything, neither old nor young, not unusually or distractingly attractive while somehow remaining impossible not to stare at. Her hair was pulled back loosely, almost playfully, while she stared down at her pad. Alex 

"Mr. Vartas, I want to thank you for coming in, especially under these circumstances. Audrey has told me a lot, but for obvious reasons I think it's important that we include you in at least some of these sessions."

Alex wasn't certain what he was supposed to say once Dr. Jacoby paused. He only knew that silence, even for a second, felt unbearable.

"Well, I...Audrey is very special to me," he stammered, "and, well...there may be some things—not that we wanted, or I guess I wanted, to...keep secrets, but—"

"Mr. Vartas, I understand what you're driving at," Dr. Jacoby interrupted, to Alex's eternal gratitude. "When I first began meeting with Ms. Sappery, I detected something very unusual in her presentation. Most patients are engaged in a level of denial or of self-deception that requires my help to analyze, but Audrey engaged in willful, transparent practices of concealment."

Dr. Jacoby looked at Audrey, as if gauging if she was offended by her characterization. Audrey had herself admitted, the week before, that much of what she had told Dr. Jacoby was a lie, and that she had only gone to therapy as an outward pretense to help her boyfriend, whom she saw as her Master. 

Alex knew that much, just as he knew that Dr. Jacoby undoubtedly harbored deep concerns about his relationship with Audrey. He'd resolved to come clean to her therapist, hoping that Audrey's therapist would scrupulously observe doctor-patient confidentiality.

"Well, Mr. Vartas, I've spoken a lot about you and about your situation in the last week since Audrey told me about you and about her past, the parts she can remember, at least. Before we get into your story, though, I'm curious about one thing: why have Audrey tell me the truth now? Surely you realize just how unusual and potentially destructive this relationship is. I would love to know what has transpired recently to help change your mind."

Alex took a deep breath. He hadn't actually revealed what had happened between Diane and him to Audrey, not that she hadn't been curious. Alex had needed time to process, to consider the weight of what Diane had told him. He'd spilled a bit to Audrey, but now she was going to hear everything.

"I had a conversation with Audrey's aunt. She...found out about us. And she knew who I was, remembered me, I guess, from the lawsuit documents or something. I guess she wasn't around that much back then, but heard enough from Audrey's mother about who was responsible—me, I mean—that she had a pretty good idea about who I was. Anyway, she came over and, you could say, she caused a scene." 

Dr. Jacoby's eyes darted obviously to Audrey, and Alex followed them. Audrey seemed to feel uncomfortable, suddenly on the spot as if Dr. Jacoby wanted her to act as a human polygraph for Alex's story.

"She slapped Master," Audrey said. "And said she would call the police. Thank god she didn't."

Alex cringed a little hearing her call him "Master." He was certain Dr. Jacoby would hold that against him.

"And this confrontation made you reconsider telling Audrey to lie to her therapist?"

Dr. Jacoby's voice wasn't particularly harsh or pointed, but Alex could tell the cutting nature of her question anyway.

"Actually, no. To get her to go away and stop scaring Audrey, I told her I'd meet her privately later. After a few days, we got in touch and met at a coffee shop—I wanted something public, in case she wanted to slap me again. Only, she was totally different. She told me about seeing Audrey before I arrived, where she could barely remember her own name, and would get lost going to the bathroom. She said that whatever I was doing was working and that she wasn't going to call the cops."

Alex could almost feel Audrey's smile, even as he focused his eyes on Dr. Jacoby. All that he'd told Audrey before was that Diane had agreed not to go to the authorities. He hadn't added how much she'd changed her tune on Alex.

"That's not the big thing, though," he continued. "So, Diane said she was fine with me staying with Audrey, but then she got really serious. She told me that she was doing this for Audrey, and that she didn't trust me. I told her how much I cared about Audrey, and she said something that stuck with me. She told me that was why I was dangerous. She said that somebody who falls in love with someone like Audrey is...is just looking for someone to control. She said that if I was trying to help Audrey out of guilt, she'd understand it, but when I told her how much I cared about Audrey, that it...well I think she said it 'raised the hairs on the back of her neck.' And she warned me that she was going to watch me, because Audrey needed someone to protect her from me."




Better Ch. 02



Dr. Jacoby scribbled notes furiously as Alex spoke. He wished she would give some indication whether or not she agreed with Diane. Instead, there was only more unbearable silence, as Audrey squeezed his hands tight. She was visibly upset, and Alex wondered if she was afraid of how Master would react to the idea that he should stop loving her.

"Why did Audrey's aunt's warning make you choose this response specifically, Alex?"

He noticed her shift into using his first name.

"Well, she's...maybe she's not wrong. Maybe I'm afraid of myself, too. I mean, we damaged her brain. She—Audrey, I'm sorry, but I need to say this—she has no defenses against me." 

With that, Alex turned towards Audrey, no longer speaking to her therapist.

"Audrey, I...I love you. I really do. But being with you scares the hell out of me. It's like the only thing keeping us from spinning out of control is me, but every day I'm with you it feels like my grip is slipping."

"Master, I'm sorry," Audrey said, almost in tears. "I don't want to drive you away again."

Alex turned back towards Dr. Jacoby, as it was painful even to look at Audrey at the moment.

"I want you to help Audrey," he said. "I want you, and I want to Diane, to look out for her. I mean, when I showed up, she was totally alone. You don't know what happened to her—she doesn't, and I only know a little. But, I do know that she's...she's independent now. She picks up things, like maybe she's remembering them. She's can paint. Like, really paint, amazing stuff. She surprises me all the time."

"Audrey told me a little bit about that," Dr. Jacoby said, betraying the first sign of warmth in her voice thus far. "Audrey, you've told me about how you deal with your anxiety when you're alone. Can we talk more about that now?"

"Sure," she said, her voice cracking a little.

Alex was impressed by how composed she'd been in the session.

"Tell me more about meeting a new friend."

"Well, there's a girl I met at MacLaren's—that's the art-supply store. She's a sculpture student, and we got to talking. I showed her a few stills of my work on my phone, she showed me some pictures of hers. We exchanged numbers, and we had lunch last week."

"And how was that?"

"It was fun. Master was at work, and it was great not to be alone all the time. I'm so much better now, doctor; I can remember new things. I can handle being afraid or nervous. When things get to be too much, I always know that Master will take care of me."

"And what does 'taking care of you' mean, Audrey?"

Alex sunk in his seat. He wished more than anything that he could be absent for this part.

"I've been reading some things online—Master helped to build me a computer. He made it himself! Oh, so I've learned about...well about what we like to do. It's called BDSM. It's not...wrong. It doesn't feel wrong to me, it feels good. Master ties me up, Master spanks me, we have sex. He makes me feel better, like there's someone in the world out there who loves me for who I am. I'm not crazy. I know most people think what we do is weird, and I know...I know I'm broken. My brain is scrambled or whatever. But this isn't why. I don't feel broken with Master. So I don't understand why I'm supposed to be afraid of the one person who makes me feel safe in the whole world."

Alex was dumbstruck. He looked up at Dr. Jacoby.

"I want to thank you for your honesty, Audrey," she said. "Unfortunately, we're out of time for today's session. I'll look forward to seeing you, alone, on Tuesday."

Alex helped Audrey up. She looked beautiful. He felt lucky to have her.

"May I have a word with you alone for a second, Mr. Vartas?"

Alex let Audrey step outside while he lingered in the room.

"I've looked into my patient's background as far as I could. I was just about ready to drop her before she came to me with all this—I usually don't see the point in meeting with patients who aren't trying to get better. I know, as much as I can, about what Audrey can and cannot do, and I also know that her aunt was right. 

"Audrey may not be afraid of you, Mr. Vartas, but she ought to be. I can't see anything to be done at this point to protect her from you that wouldn't be more damaging to her than not, but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned about your relationship with my patient. You may truly love Audrey, but that doesn't mean that you can be trusted to hold absolute power over her. If you do care about her wellbeing, then I suggest you find ways to diminish her dependence upon you, rather than fostering it with the pretense that the two of you are an ordinary romantic couple."

Alex had heard enough about Audrey's vision—the window overlooking the snowy forest—to know that he wished he had something like it to imagine right now. His stomach hurt, and as he staggered out of the doctor's office, it took all his strength not to betray how devastating Dr. Jacoby's brief words had been for him.

"Is everything OK, Alex?" Audrey asked, choosing her words carefully in the occupied waiting room.

"Fine," he said weakly. "Couldn't be better."

Alex felt like he was being torn apart inside. As he looked into Audrey's luminous eyes, he wondered if things could go on forever like this. 

Forever? Shit...

End of Part Two of Three



Better Ch. 03



There'a a spirit about Andrea that's fun and slightly subversive. She brings out a side of me that I never get to show or feel when I'm tasked to do the job of keeping a nationwide bank robust and profitable, especially in the most challenging times; when I have to put on the face of prosperity and propriety at board meetings and cocktail events. It's all an act and that has served me well in my career and in my marriage with my wife who's the proper corporate wife -- the frosted bob, the bright and shiny lipsticked smile that went off on cue whenever we went out to social events, and had a straight and rigid posture that suited her well in couture dresses. She played the part well, scripted and robotic, just like our lovemaking. 

But I wanted and needed someone I could share inappropriate laughs over the silliest things, a sense of excitement that goes with breaking the rules.

I thought the time Andrea and I spent at the photography retreat was just a one-time deal until we kept in touch over email, text and phone. She became more open about her feelings, her sexuality, and I just had to have her again and again. She brought out this side of me that's so alive, even if I knew I had to keep under wraps the moment I come back to my office and home. 

And what could be said about a woman who could make me come twice after a red eye flight across the country? When most people would have been achy and tired after not being able to sleep on a plane, I was so wound up to see her, knowing I could take on whatever she had waiting for me at full press court. And, yes, the trench coat thing with her leaning up against her car was a bit clichéd but absolutely hot. She knew how to work it by leaning up against the car door with one leg leaning back a step down from the curb, arms crossed under and around the most sensuous set of tits I've ever had my hands and mouth on. How many men get that kind of reception from a woman, especially one as hot on the outside and inside as Andrea?

We could have spent the time and had just as much fun holing up at her place sitting on pillows on her floor in front of her coffee table, feeding ourselves fondue and polishing it off with a bottle of Trader Joe's best Pinot Grigot -- naked. But I wanted to sweep her away unexpectedly and take her out shopping to buy things for the next few days to wear to places she didn't expect to go. It was excitement I could easily afford and felt Andrea deserved and would definitely appreciate.

I took her to some chi-chi boutiques that were within walking distance from the hotel. She asked me what she should be looking for. I told her something she could wear for oysters and champagne in the lobby bar before heading downtown to see Madeleine Peyroux in concert that evening.

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed.

"You told me you wanted to see her a month or two ago, and I got the tickets," I said. She threw her arms around me as I spotted a royal blue trapeze dress that would show off her shoulders and drive me crazy all night thinking of what the rest of her looked like underneath.

She slipped into the dressing room and then motioned me to come inside after she had the dress on. It looked as good on her as I imagined with the flowing fabric draping off the curves of her breasts, hips and ass. 

"What do you think?" she asked coquettishly.

I slid my hand under the hem of the dress, slipped my finger under her panties to feel her moistening slit, and whispered in her ear, "Just don't wear the panties," as I pulled my finger away. 

"Oh, please, don't stop," she begged in her breathiest whisper. 

I slipped my moist fingers through her lips, onto her tongue, and said, "There's more for you to try on," before walking out of the fitting room and leaving her restless.

I knew she would need more for the next few days and I came back with a slim-fitting halter dress with a deep V that came down to her the bottom of her breast bone. I slipped it over the fitting room door and told her to try it on. As soon as she had it on, she flung open the door, leaned her hand against the frame of the door, and just stood there with her eyes piercing through me, igniting my cock like a Roman candle ready for takeoff. I pushed her against the fitting room wall, slid my hand under the top of her dress to grab her breast hard, pressed my trouser-cloaked cock against her, and didn't say a word as I pulled away.

"Tease!" she said in a quiet mock scream. "I want more!"

"More clothes?" I asked jestfully as I opened the door to walk out. "Coming right up."

I came back with a short flouncy sundress that held up her tits like a wanton wench when she it tried on. I bent her over and flipped the bottom of the dress over her hips and slid my cock slowly and deeply inside her pussy. She let out a purring moan that was loud enough for the saleswoman to hear.

"Pardon me," the saleswoman said from the other side of the door. "But I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you don't stop ..."

I pulled out and zipped up quickly, grabbed the first two dresses Andrea tried on, opened the door, and said, "We'll take these plus the one she has on. Bring us anything else you think she'd look good in and any jewelry and shoes, Size 7, you think will go with them. Here's my credit card."

I don't know whose jaw hit the floor first, but I didn't get to see the saleswoman pick hers up before she went out to discreetly take her time to pick out a few other dresses and the accessories to go with them.

"Michael, I can't believe what you just ..." Andrea gasped before I cut her off with a deep kiss as I pulled down her dress, ripped off her panties, and then turned her around to bend her over back over the back of the chair in the fitting room. She automatically spread her legs wide open and stood on her tip toes so I could slide back into her. No, not slide, but slam back into her. She was so incredibly hot and tight for me. Her inside walls clenched me like a vice, so hard that I could barely slide in an out of her. I felt as if I wanted to burst from the deepest part inside of my loins, a part of me that was so deep inside that I was surprised it existed. 

I pulled out just before the climax of her orgasm, leaving her flushed, breathless and still wanting more. At just the right time, the saleswoman knocked and slipped a few more dresses through the tiniest crack of the door. I just sat back and just watched get dressed and undressed without making a move toward her, knowing it was driving her absolutely insane. 

I wanted her too. I wanted to shoot whatever I had inside of her like a fire hose on a three-alarm fire, but there just wasn't time. And knowing what she was going to wear half of the time over the next few days, I knew what we'd be doing the other half of the time. 

By the time we were done in the fitting room, the saleswoman had about seven or eight pairs of shoes and a counter full of bracelets, cocktail rings, necklaces and earrings waiting for us. 

"Take whatever fits and whatever you think you need to polish off the look," I said. "We have to get going."

Andrea tried to protest, saying it was all much too much.

"How often do you get a chance to be lusted after and assaulted like that in a dress shop?" I asked her with a wink and a sly grin, barely within earshot of the saleswoman.

Andrea grabbed me, kissed me, and smiled like a Cheshire cat who knew she had gotten away with doing something really, really bad. 

"But now I have to get back to the room and make some phone calls while you have someone do your hair and your makeup at the salon down the street," I told her as I signed the bill and sent her off with a kiss.



Better Ch. 03



***Author's Note: This is the final chapter of Alex and Audrey's story. I want to thank all of the commenters and readers of the first two chapters. I hope the end I envisioned lives up to your expectations and finally ties up the loose ends from the beginning of the story. As always, your comments and votes are greatly appreciated—Theworldspins***

"It's too mid-century for my taste—you know, Rothkoesque."

"You're just not seeing it, Evelyn. It's representational. It's a landscape."

"Well—in a certain light, yes...I mean—the abstraction..."

"It's just...antiseptic. There's a note of death—unrepresentable, unknowable."

"Like a Malevich? I see it."

"What's it called?"

"'Beyond the Window.' It's actually part of a series."

"I don't recognize you. Do you know the artist?"

"You could say that."

***

Audrey shot a sideways glance at Alex, as he chatted with a few gallery patrons in front of one of her biggest new pieces. She hadn't gotten a solo show yet—only a few paintings in a small but progressive new gallery downtown—but she'd already sold a piece tonight. Now she watched as people milled around her work.

It was strange to show her paintings to other people beside Master. This was the one way she opened up to the outside world about her condition. Each one of her paintings bore the traces of her life: the loss, the pain, but also the joy she had found in Master. Each brushstroke was an act of devotion, of service to him. When he bought her the paint and canvases, he told her it was because he wanted to learn what was hidden within the parts of her mind she could not reach any longer. For Audrey, her paintings often came as surprises, like photographs of dreams she could never remember dreaming. Their vividness shocked her as much as anyone else.

I hope he doesn't hate this. These aren't exactly his kind of people.

Audrey shivered as she felt a hand around her waist. 

A voice whispered into her ear: "I'm so proud of you, honey."

"Kendra, you scared me," Audrey said, turning towards the diminutive brunette beside her. "But, thanks. I was so nervous."

"Your stuff is so good," Kendra said. "I wanted to ask you about one piece in particular."

Audrey had a good idea which piece Kendra was interested in.

"That's why I was nervous," she said. "I figured most people wouldn't really pick it up but—"

"But you knew I could spot a picture of you bound and gagged no matter how 'abstract' you made it, right?" Kendra said with a sly smile.

"Shhh!"

Audrey began to blush. With Master, nothing was off-limits, but she was just beginning to get used to talking candidly with other people. She had met Kendra, a sculptress, at the art supply store, and they had become fast friends. Through her art, Audrey had met a decent handful of friends and acquaintances, some of whom knew about her memory issues, some of whom did not. Only Kendra, though, knew the truth about Audrey's relationship with Alex.

"I think it's hot—not, like, tawdry. It makes you, I don't know, feel things without just coming out and saying it."

"Thanks," Audrey said. "I guess it's easier for a painter than a sculptor to hide that kind of thing."

Kendra laughed.

"Yeah, I guess I can't make a sculpture of my Master's giant cock without it looking like, you know, a giant cock."

Audrey felt relieved Kendra was there. She always felt butterflies in her stomach whenever someone came up to her to ask her about her paintings: where they came from, what they were supposed to mean. In a way, she hadn't really intended them to mean anything. In truth, they were inventories of images that she couldn't connect to specific memories. Alex called them "ghost pictures" for that reason, though Audrey could tell that Master usually couldn't tell how erotically charged her art was for her, given how little her paintings looked like actual human bodies. He was just one of those "both feet on the ground" kind of guys; his favorite painter was Van Gogh, and that was as "out there" as he would get.

Audrey and Kendra stayed glued together for the next hour, surreptitiously laughing over particularly pretentious collectors and gallery patrons, while they sipped glasses of pinot grigio and fended off the subtle come-ons of a variety of bald and bespectacled older men.

While Audrey turned more heads, Kendra wasn't without her charms. Though she was slightly older than Audrey, she looked considerably younger. It didn't help that she barely broke five feet tall, nor that she was fair-skinned and freckled, with a slender, but appealingly feminine body. Tonight, like almost always, she was dressed in mostly black, in this case a maxi dress, with black stilettos designed to counteract her own small stature. Audrey knew she hated being treated like a little girl around people her own age—maybe that was how Kendra had developed such a spark-plug personality.

"When are you going to invite me and Master over?" Kendra pouted. "I promise, promise, promise not to let things get out of hand."

"Soon," Audrey said. "He's just...busy all the time."

"Is everything OK?"

Audrey pulled Kendra aside, out of earshot of anyone nearby.

"I think...he's kind of pulling away from me. Like, he's the one who wants me to get out of the house more without him. And he invited her tonight."

"No. Fucking. Way. Point her out to me."

Audrey discretely motioned towards the slinky, dark-haired Vietnamese girl eyeing one of the other artists' pieces.

"At least she's not draped all over him," Kendra said. "You don't think he's...you know?"

Audrey shook her head.

"Master wouldn't do that. I mean, why would he? He could just ask, you know? I just know that she wants him, and she's waiting for him to get tired of me. Maybe he is."

"Then he's nuts," Kendra said, before she realizing she wasn't helping. "What's her name—Hang? I'll spy on her tonight, get some intel."

"No!" Audrey said, louder than she'd intended. "You suck at being coy."

"Nope, I'm doing it," Kendra said, affecting a serious tone, "unless you invite us over, that is..."

"Alright, alright. Next Friday. Bring wine," Audrey said.

"I will—and lube."

Kendra smiled a devilish grin before melting into the crowd to mingle. Audrey watched Alex peel off from the klatch of critics that had surrounded him, making his way towards her.

"How's Kendra?" he asked innocently.

"Good—we're having a dinner party next Friday."

Alex looked at Audrey searchingly for a moment.

"I assumed that's code for something," he said dryly.

"You don't mind?"

"It's fine," he said, "but...it'll be weird to actually do it in front of other people." 

Audrey thought he looked cute when he was a little shy.

"Not that," he said with gentle sarcasm, goosing her sides a little with this fingers. "I mean 'the voice'—around other people. I don't want it to seem like a magic trick or something."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," Audrey said, buttering him up.

"But you want me to?"

She fluttered her eyes adorably, hoping to disarm any objections he might have.

"Someone is going to get punished tonight," he said with evident glee. "Oh, and I had a surprise for you, but now you're going to have to wait until your little pixie friend can watch you get it."

Audrey was glad to hear his enthusiasm; he'd also, of course, piqued her interest with this mystery gift. Lately, it had seemed that he was trying to put more space between them. He'd even come pretty close to asking her if she ever thought about dating other guys, before she shut the conversation down immediately. Everything had seemed perfect until Dr. Jacoby—Audrey's newest nemesis and former therapist—had spoken with Alex. Now, despite his constant promises to the contrary, Audrey harbored a sneaking suspicion that the distance between them was intentional.

"Master," Audrey whispered, respecting Alex's wishes not to call him that in public, "why...why did you invite her?"

The smile vanished from Alex's face.

"I need friends, too. And I told you, I'm not interested in her like that."

"But she's interested in you. She might be playing hard to get tonight, but I saw her at your office party when she got a few drinks in her and—"

"How big is she?"

Audrey was taken aback—she didn't know where Master was going with this.

"I don't know...small."

"And how big am I?"

"What part of you?" Audrey said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"The answer is big enough that I don't have to worry about some tiny little girl pinning me down and fucking me. And since that's the only way I would ever be with Hang, then you don't have to worry."

That's more like it. Take control.

"I'm sorry, Master," Audrey whimpered. "I'll make it up to you."

"I don't doubt it, slave," Alex said, sliding effortlessly into their play. "Now let's stick together. I want to watch you impress these art snobs."

"Your wish is my command..."

***

Audrey was feeling a little light-headed. She didn't drink wine that often, but when she did, it felt heavenly.

"Alex, I hope I'm not being forward here, but would you mind, you know, doing it? I'd love to how it works."

Audrey couldn't tell how Master felt about Kendra's request. For the moment, they were all seated, two to a side, at the dining table in the home she shared with Master. She turned towards Master, hoping to gauge his reaction; he'd never done it in front of an audience before.

"Obviously you know a lot about us," he said in an even tone, "so there's not much sense in keeping secrets."

Alex pulled his chair out and went into the kitchen. He returned with a bunch of white seedless grapes. They were rarely without a bag full in the refrigerator.

"When I came back here to Audrey, she was in bad shape. I would feed her grapes like this," he said. 

Master took hold of her by her sides, right underneath her breasts, and pulled her into his body. She instinctively slumped against him as he held the back of her head firmly in place. Kendra watched intently as Alex cradled her and lowered the first grape into her mouth. Any nerves that the wine hadn't put to rest were dissipated; Audrey was calm and unafraid.

"She still doesn't really like to eat them on her own. She will, of course. She just doesn't like to."

Audrey smiled a little. Kendra was either doing a poor job of hiding the fact that she was stroking the cock of her Master through his pants or, perhaps, no effort at all in Audrey's eyes. Kendra seemed especially turned on watching Audrey's Master feed her, seeing the look of perfect contentment on her face as all her fears and inhibitions melted away.

She had only met Kendra's Master, a tall, brown-haired, fair-skinned Colombian named Eduardo, a few times. He wasn't Kendra's first Master—she had been the first to admit that her needs often led her into the arms of men who didn't deserve her devotion. Eduardo had seemed like a good fit for Kendra to Audrey, though—a firm, though rarely harsh man, whose strength and stoicism might balance Kendra's more adventurous and rash personality.

"And that gets you excited?" Kendra asked. "Eating from his hand?"

Audrey shook her head.

"No, it makes me feel calmer, less...scatter-brained. And, this is going to sound weird, but it...it's like I see things brighter. My senses are better. The food tastes better. The music sounds better. But it's not what gets me excited, though."

Audrey had talked about this stuff plenty of times with Kendra, but she realized how difficult it must have been to really understand it without seeing it. After her fifth grape, she was ready to call it quits. Dinner had been filling; this was a lot more about showing her new best friend something that no one else had ever seen.

"Can the boys talk for a bit? I need a minute with my lovah," Kendra requested.

Alex shot a look at Audrey. Their eyes met, and they communicated wordlessly, instantly. 

"Go ahead," Alex said. "Eduardo and I could use a little time to complain about you two."

As the men got up to go into one of the living rooms, Kendra pulled Audrey into the kitchen.

"Tell me you guys talked about it beforehand. Tell me!" she said excitedly.

"We did," Audrey replied. "He said it would be OK, but there are...rules."

"Of course," Kendra said.

Audrey could tell Kendra was trying to contain her anticipation, to appear as respectful of any boundaries Audrey might set. Nevertheless, her bubbly enthusiasm was making Audrey herself excited.

"So, no switching, obviously."

"Of course," Kendra said. "I'm not trying to sample your man."

"So there's that. And, ummm, he says to keep things light today. Maybe no fucking at all. Oral's OK—and spanking, but no paddles or floggers or anything. You know, light?"

"I get it—totally. But, what about the rest?"

"The green-lights? It's a go on anything between you and me. And he'll show you how the voice works."

Kendra's eyes lit up. Audrey knew she wanted to hear it more than anything else, to see how it affected Audrey. They'd talked about it before, about how Alex's special voice controlled her. Kendra knew Audrey couldn't resist his commands; she knew as well how much Audrey longed to receive those commands, to feel her will overcome by Master's desires, to submit to him fully and find her pleasure through letting go of the parts of her mind that experienced fear and doubt.

"So...what's underneath that dress?" Kendra asked coyly. "Because I've got something to show you under mine."

Audrey didn't have the heart to tell Kendra that she wasn't much interested in what she was wearing under her dress. Kendra was clearly into girls a lot, almost as much as she was guys. To Audrey, it all made sense: Kendra was just a sexual animal, and her Master probably enjoyed watching her fuck girls but not other men. That meant bringing other women into their bed, something for which Audrey had no personal interest. For her, sex was submission to Master; pleasing him was the horizon of her lust. If he wanted her with others, she would obey, though she didn't have such desires on her own.

"I think we should wait," Audrey said. "If Master wants me out of my clothes, he'll tell me."

Kendra smirked.

"You are a good little slave. I'll have to keep up."

Not for the first time, Audrey wondered if there was a competitive angle to this whole fantasy of Kendra's. I don't think you're going to be more submissive than me, sweetie. You're just playing at being a slave—I really am one.

"Let's not keep them waiting," Audrey said, arching an eyebrow.

Hand in hand, they sauntered out to the living room to find the boys locked in engaged conversation about the relative merits of something boring and computer-related. With the girls back, Alex and Eduardo broke off their discussion quickly, and a tense silence broke out.

Audrey sat down beside Alex on the sofa, facing across from Eduardo and Kendra, who had elected to sit on the floor at her Master's feet. Eduardo did not look down at Kendra, his eyes instead focused on Alex, as if he was unimpressed by Kendra's display of subordination.

"I think we will have to save this topic for another day, my friend," he said, reaching down to stroke Kendra's shiny brown hair. "It looks like my pet needs a little attention."

Kendra's eyes locked on Audrey, and Audrey suddenly felt like she should be doing something. But Kendra hadn't been told to get down on the carpet. Maybe they always do that—but we don't. Master will know what to do. She felt a little tense, but Master's hand stroking her thigh helped to soothe her nerves.

"Just wait," he whispered into her ear. "Let them start and just enjoy watching."

Audrey looked into Eduardo's eyes for a moment, before lowering her gaze; it had felt wrong to look at him like that. He wasn't her Master, but he was a Master. She could look at Kendra, breathing deeply on the floor at her Master's feet, but not at Eduardo, whose eyes she could feel drinking her in.

"Show our guests what you look like underneath that cover," Eduardo said, before looking up at Alex. "She dressed up like a lady for dinner, but you'll see she's a dirty little slut deep down."

Kendra started by slowly sliding the straps of her dress to the side. It was only a simple cotton dress, modest, really, by Kendra's standards: a navy, knee-length thing that clung to her body to her hips before flaring out. Now, the entire top half was bunched around her waist, displaying her small, pert breasts in a black lacy demi-cup bra. She slid the dress down further to reveal a scandalously tiny matching g-string. Audrey and Alex shared a knowing look: her pussy must have been completely waxed.

Master doesn't like that. He likes me better with some hair remaining on top.

Audrey felt Master squeeze her thigh with one hand, while the other reached around her to cup her tit. She found herself surprisingly aroused by the display before her, of her best friend stripping out of her dress to reveal some of the sluttiest lingerie she'd ever seen. Her own underwear, though sexy, was a lot less trashy; she was beginning to think "classy" wasn't the right look for what was about to happen.

"Audrey, why don't you help your friend with the rest?" Master asked.

"My kind of guy," Eduardo said laughing. "I want to see our girls play."

"That's why you came, right?" Alex replied. "But, Audrey, don't take your dress off just yet. Wait until I tell you."

Audrey didn't need to be told twice to comply. On her hand and knees, she crawled to the standing Kendra and took holds of the sides of her dress, slowly peeling it off her body. Kendra was still facing her Master, with her back to Audrey, whose face was mere inches from Kendra's virtually bare ass. 

"You're wet already, slut," Eduardo said. "How long have you wanted to fuck your best friend?"

Audrey blushed, expecting Kendra to turn around and look at her. She didn't; her eyes were firmly fixed at the floor, or rather, at her Master's feet. It wasn't new information to her, but it was still jarring to hear it out loud.

"Since I met her," Kendra admitted sheepishly.

"You love eating pussy, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Get down on all fours," Eduardo commanded.

Still facing away from Audrey, Kendra obeyed her Master. Now Audrey could unfasten her bra and free her tits from confinement. Eduardo smiled lasciviously as he watched his prone slave be stripped by her still clothed best friend.

"You seem a little too pleased with yourself still, slut. Maybe I should tell our new friends about you more."

Audrey flinched a little, her arms brushing against Kendra's hips. She had gone on to just her knees to remove the bra, and now she was propped up on her knees, wondering what to do with her hands. Kendra's naked body, vulnerable and ripe for the taking in front of her, made her think for a moment about how she must appear to Master.

If Master tells me to fuck her, it's like he's doing it. I'll be like his tool, his toy.

"No, Master please," Kendra said, "don't tell them what a slut I am."

Audrey, however, could sense she was faking it—not completely, but at least in part. Kendra wanted him to tell them things, dirty, degrading things. Audrey had had this discussion with Kendra before, about her desires. For her part, Audrey didn't feel ashamed about things when she was with Master, but was still shy around other people. Kendra wanted an audience

That wasn't to say that her begging was wholly an act, though. Kendra did often feel humiliated by her Master, whether other people were around or not. She just got off on it, the feelings of shame, the humiliation of letting a man order her around in front of other people like she was a piece of property. She'd told Audrey about it plenty of times, and now Audrey saw it with her own two eyes. They were playing a game, and now she was part of it too. 




Better Ch. 03



"Can you believe this little slut, my friend?" he said to Alex, one again seemingly ignoring both Audrey and Kendra's presence. "You know, she sucked off her daddy's best friend. Fucked her teacher in high school, too, like the day she turned eighteen, man. A natural whore."

Alex was silent. Audrey couldn't tell whether he liked Eduardo or not.

"Maybe you give her a few nice hard spanks, Audrey?" Eduardo asked.

It wasn't his place to command her, so she appreciated how he didn't talk to her like he did to his own slave. She looked back at Master, who nodded laconically. She had never done anything like this, and it surprised her how much she was looking forward to it. Though she was unfailingly submissive to Master, she had no objection to spanking or dominating Kendra, even if she as simply following Eduardo's orders to do so.

"Thank her—and me—after ever one, slut," Eduardo demanded.

Audrey brought her hand hard down onto Kendra's ass, not holding back at all. Kendra let loose a muffled yelp of pain.

"Thank you Master. Thank you Audrey."

Audrey spanked Kendra several more times before, finally, Alex spoke.

"Hit her with your right hand," he said, "and fuck her with your left."

Audrey felt a shudder in her pussy as she sensed Master's power. It was a new kind of thrill to obey Master and yet experience a rush of dominance over Kendra as well. Without quite understanding why, Audrey suddenly wanted to make Kendra come more than anything in the world.

"You see her cream on those fingers?" Eduardo said. "She can't cum until you put her in her place. Lower than a slave, my friend. She likes the pain."

Kendra was having difficulty thanking her Master and Audrey, seeing as how Audrey's skillful hand was rapidly bringing her to a climax. Despite, or perhaps because of the painful spanking Audrey was administering her, Kendra was mewling like a bitch in heat and blubbering her gratitude in increasingly incoherent syllables. Finally, after ten minutes of finger fucking, Audrey had had enough, and, without warning, her spanking turned into a vigorous thrust of her right index finger, lubed only with her spit, into Kendra's ass.

"Oh, hey, man!" Eduardo called out, "even your girl sees what a whore this one is!"

"Fuck, I'm coming," Kendra called out, as she writhed on Audrey's fingers, penetrating her holes to the knuckle.

Audrey had never seen another woman orgasm in person and wondered if she looked like that. She peeked her eyes up to crotch level of Eduardo, now standing above Kendra and stroking her hair. The gesture was surprisingly loving after the nasty and degrading things he had called her. Then, Audrey watched Eduardo make a twirling motion with his index finger. For the first time since she stripped her, Audrey looked directly at Kendra. She had a dreamy, freshly fucked look, but Audrey could sense that she wasn't done for the night by any stretch of the imagination.

From behind her back, Audrey heard Master speak: "Let her taste the right hand. You clean off the left."

Audrey pushed her finger into Kendra's mouth and felt her suck it like a cock. Only a moment before, it had been lodged in Kendra's snug ass; now she was licking it as if it belonged to her Master.

"I like the way you think, man," Eduardo said. "My slut needs to taste her own ass to know her place."

Meanwhile, Audrey began to suck her fingers coated with Kendra's pussy juices. Audrey was too engrossed in the novel experience of tasting Kendra on her fingers to notice what Kendra's master was doing until she caught sight of his large, fully erect cock, now freed from his pants and clearly aroused by the spectacle taking place just a few feet away. While Kendra continued to suckle Audrey's finger, Eduardo's massive tool bobbed up and down beside her left ear.

"Audrey, I have something to give you. I'll trade you for your dress," Alex said, causing Audrey to finally turn around.

Master had his hands behind his back.

"Help me a little?" she asked Kendra softly, as the nude, collared slave slowly unzipped the back of her dress, still oblivious, it seemed, to her Master's imposing cock behind her.

"What is it?" Kendra whispered into Audrey's ear softly as she slid her hand across Audrey's shoulders.

"A gift."

Stepping out of her dress, Audrey revealed to the evident delight of her audience a soft, feminine set of lacy lingerie. Unlike Kendra's more revealing ensemble, Audrey's ass was more or less covered, though her more ample cleavage made up for any subtlety below. She began to walk towards Alex until he stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Get on the ground, slave. Crawl over to me."

Audrey could no longer see Kendra's face, but heard her gasp a little. She must have finally noticed her Master's straining cock, waiting for her to service it. 

Audrey crawled over meekly towards Alex, who brought his hands out from behind him once she was inches from the bulge in his pants. With her eyes still downcast, she couldn't see Master's gift until he lowered it to her face.

Finally!

It was absolutely stunning. Intricate, thin metal chains, almost a dozen on first glance. intertwined until they met in the center at a clasp. Two sides of a red, wood-inlayed heart met there , with snaps to hold the heart together and an overlapping, filigreed metal hasp where it could be locked. Though each chain looked delicate, Audrey touched them and felt their tensile strength; with so many, the collar was strong.

"I've been waiting to give you this for a while," he said, a note of hesitation in his whispering voice. "I...we'll talk."

Audrey could hear shuffling behind her, and whispering, followed by the unmistakable sounds of moaning. She turned back briefly to see Kendra on all fours, her face entranced as her Master pumped a finger in and out of her lubed anus. Eduardo's cock stood out at full mast, and Audrey was surprised he hadn't simply shoved his slave's mouth onto it full hilt. His patience and focus upon Kendra momentarily impressed Audrey, though her mind was understandably fixed on the truly breathtaking collar her Master had just presented her.

"Turn around," he said.

Leaning down, Master placed it around her neck. The metal was cool against her skin, and the collar wasn't too tight; in fact, without the lock in front, it could easily pass for simply a unique necklace. Then Master produced a small silver lock, of the same color as the collar, and held it front of Audrey's eyes.

"It's beautiful," she said, as he locked the heart clasp.

Audrey and Kendra's eyes met, if only for a moment. Audrey could tell, even from their stolen glance, that Kendra knew how significant the moment she was witnessing. Master was making a special display of ownership, just for her.

"Look up at me." Master said. "I love you."

She turned. Audrey momentarily wished she was alone with Master.

"Thank me for your collar, slave."

"Thank you, Master," she said sincerely. "Now everyone will know how I belong to you. How I worship you. How you own me. I'm nothing without you."

"Get over my knee."

Audrey got in position, her pert ass pointed to the sky. She couldn't wait for Master to spank her.

"Master, can I get closer? I want to see this up close," Kendra asked.

"You can crawl over there, but every time you move your whore body towards her, you're earning a hard cane stroke later," Eduardo said coldly.

Audrey was too lost in the anticipation of Master's discipline to worry what Kendra was up to, though; it was a surprise to see Kendra's sparkling eyes make contact with her own when Alex first brought his hand down hard onto her soft, vulnerable ass. Like an echo, the loud slap against Kendra's already well-abused ass followed shortly behind, and for almost a minute, the two Masters, different as they were, moved almost in unison. Voices and bodies colliding: low growls betraying arousal and shame from Kendra followed plaintive cries from Audrey, pathetic and hungry, each voice interrupted from becoming a symphony of submissive, feminine lust only by the sound of rough hands striking soft flesh.

please—i'm sorry—you're a bad little girl, aren't you?—hurt me—take it—you want this, don't you?—goddamn that's red—yes...I'm wet for you Master—yes, i am your slut

Eduardo was the first to break the trance, the place where Audrey, lost in Kendra's eyes as if staring in a mirror, had gone.

"I think it's time for you to suck my cock," he spat at Kendra, moving around to sit beside Alex on the sofa. 

Audrey felt weird that her bare legs were touching Eduardo, still clad in his pants, though his engorged prick protruded obscenely from the front. She looked back at Master, who wordlessly nodded his head. Red-assed and smarting from the spanking, she took her rightful place on floor beside her friend, working Master's fly open and fishing out the cock straining against his pants. Kendra had a head start on her, and in Audrey's peripheral vision she watched Kendra furiously stroke Eduardo's thick shaft with her hand while she bobbed her head up and down, slathering his manhood with saliva.

Master didn't like her to rush like that; he preferred her to suck him slowly, but deeply, to help her throat get used to the invasion, so that she could gradually swallow his dick whole without too much retching. Once Master's cock was in her throat, she wouldn't have the ability to think much until she received her salty reward.

"So how long have you had your cocksucker?" Eduardo asked casually, his voice elevated to be heard over the slurping sounds.

The sounds washed over Audrey; she could hear and remember, but not reflect.

"I...we've been together for eighteen months now," he said, with notes of discomfort. "You?"

"This little slut has been my slave for six months now," he said. "Met her online. Fucked her the first night we met. I love America, man."

"You do this kind of thing back home?"

"No offense, my friend, but American girls are...I think the word is 'freaks.' I never knew a woman who let you call her a dirty cum slut and then she still sucked your dick afterwards until I came to this country. Oh shit—she's pissed I'm talking," Eduardo said, gradually breathing harder. "She...tries...to get my attention. Hates it when I ignore her when she's on my cock."

Audrey noticed a change in Master: his conversational distraction was making the blowjob last longer than usual. Like Kendra, she also redoubled her efforts, straining to take as much of his cock into her throat as she could. She needed him to cum now, more than anything in the world.

"That's right baby," he said softly, almost encouragingly. "All the way down..."

By contrast, Eduardo was considerably more forceful, fucking Kendra's face until she began to spew saliva across his body.

"Sorry 'bout your couch, man," he said, though his tone wasn't particularly apologetic sounding.

It was the last full sentence Eduardo could manage before Kendra finally succeeded in bringing him to climax. He bellowed as he filled her throat with salty cum, until Kendra's cheeks bulged obscenely and she began to slap his legs frantically for air.

With her lips stretched around the root of Master's cock, Audrey felt the warm, sticky wave of fluid entering her only moments after.

Maybe Master liked watching Kendra suck cock. He came right after.

"Oh shit, man," Eduardo said, "I need to get this slut home to fuck her. I might want to fucking breed her tonight. You don't need her whore juice on your rug."

With Master's softening cock, still in her mouth, Audrey looked up at him out of curiosity to how he would react. He looked surprised, and she could only assume it was the comment about getting Kendra pregnant.

After sucking her Master's cock, Kendra was allowed to sit on his lap. He roughly pawed her tits and told her how big they would get once he had filled her with his sperm and knocked her up. 

Audrey followed suit, though she could tell that Alex felt strange making small talk with another couple, especially one composed of a naked slave who'd just been finger-fucked by his girlfriend. At the first long pause in the conversation, Eduardo made for them to leave. With Audrey's help, Kendra got dressed again, while Eduardo made his way out the door with seemingly little care whether Kendra was with him. It was a little power play that Audrey spotted immediately; he tried to dominate Kendra in ways that Master would never do to her, outside of sex.

Eduardo was already climbing into the driver's seat when Audrey caught Kendra's shoulder. Alex had already excused himself to take a shower, securing Audrey's promise that she'd join him; she hadn't gotten a chance to come, after all, a situation Alex would soon rectify.

"Were you guys serious?" she asked quietly.

"About kids? Fuck no," Kendra said emphatically. "Not with him. He's hot and fucks like a machine, but this isn't going to last. He's just got this...kink. It's cool. I just let him pretend like he's going to knock me up. But—no way, honey."

"Oh..." Audrey mumbled.

In the brief silence between them, Audrey could feel herself giving away her innermost thoughts.

"You want to, don't you?" Kendra asked. "You want him to breed you?"

"No," Audrey said without thinking. "Well, yes. But not like that. I mean, I want to have his baby. Our baby. I...just, shit, I guess I didn't know how much until now."

Kendra looked out the car, checking to see how impatient Eduardo looked.

"You should tell him how you feel. He loves you; he'll understand," Kendra said with confidence. "And next time I want to play with you more before the boys start taking control."

Kendra kissed Audrey on the cheek and said her good-byes. Her head swimming, Audrey stopped at her front doorstep. She closed her eyes and imagined walking into the house, where little Rebecca and Colin (Where'd I get those names from?) were playing with their daddy. Audrey could feel their touch on her skin, could see every little hair on their heads, hear the sounds of their playful cooing as their daddy made faces at them. It was as clear as anything she'd ever seen, clearer even than the snow and the leaves and the window.

She wouldn't tell Master today. First she would dream her dreams, and she would paint the stolen memories of her life, envision her dream family in her mind's eye and on the canvas where her thoughts came to life. Then she would plan. She'd think about all the reasons why she shouldn't want what she wanted, shouldn't have what she longed for. She'd know what to say and how to say it, to show Master that she could be a good mother, that they were ready for this. He'd talk about the stress of parenting. He'd probably suggest getting a dog. He'd say something about getting married. She'd be ready, and, finally, she would ask him—beg him if need be.

Audrey opened her eyes, walked into the door, and headed for the master bathroom. Master was waiting for her.

***

It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault.

Audrey had a flash: she shouldn't be driving. She could get lost. Everything was wrong now. Master wasn't there. Just yesterday she had—something bad had happened. Not knowing what is was made her feel even worse.

I never should have asked Master to make me pregnant. I never should have told him about wanting babies. I never should have pushed him. Now I'm all alone.

Audrey pulled over into the parking lot of a half-deserted strip mall, one of those forlorn places where payday lenders and liquor stores proliferate in the open wounds of a dying neighborhood. This wasn't her part of town. She felt more lost than she could imagine.

I know why I'm here.

The memory came like a bracing gust of cold wind, evaporating the mists in her mind. Suddenly, she felt...better. Master wasn't gone—he hadn't left. She was just confused, because of the stress, and the way things had gone when she told him about her wishes, and the way he was spending all his free hours god knows where. Master had asked for some privacy and some time, and she was, if not happy, at least willing to give it to him. And he'd promised to think about kids, to not rush to judgment. 

But still things did seem different now. Worse.

They still fucked. They still played. They slept together, ate together. He worked. She painted. She took care of the house. She gardened. She had lunch with Kendra and with her other friends.

But Master was gone too often, in body and mind. It was even worse than when he started visiting Dr. Jacoby. She'd begged him to stop and he did back then, confessed that the psychiatrist told him to pull away from her, to stop "fostering dependence." 

Now, though, he spent hours upon hours alone. He took strange trips on the vaguest of pretenses. He looked exhausted.

Audrey wanted to respect his privacy, to give him the space he needed. But it got harder each day to do so, and as she felt herself regressing, having a harder time keeping the contents of her life together in one neat package, she tried to cling to him all the more desperately.

First, she started to follow that man-stealing slut he worked with, the Vietnamese girl whose friendship with him Audrey found deeply suspicious. Only it turned out she wasn't a man-stealing slut at all. She had a boyfriend, and she seemed, well, totally innocent.

Then she started to follow Master, only the guilt of doing so was crippling. She knew he would be angry at her. The one time she really followed him in earnest, to a storage building in a bad part of town, she had to pull over to cry. She almost disappeared then, almost went to her window to cope, to let go and forget about the things that hurt her. She'd asked for too much from life: her perfect man and a perfect family, to replace the family she'd lost without even being able to truly remember it. And now she was losing everything all over again, she feared.

Finally, she had simply given up. One day, she prayed, Master would return to her to explain everything. She had her calendar marked meticulously, as always. Forty days since Kendra came over. Thirty days since she first brought up having kids. Twenty-five days since their fight. Twenty days since the first time Master went on his first trip. Two weeks since Master had last fucked her for longer than a rushed, stolen assignation. Three days since she had found him crying in the middle of the night, looking almost insane. That was the first time she could remember having to console him, and still he wouldn't tell her yet what was driving him mad. She'd told him to just forget about kids; clearly, it was too much to ask. Why was he torturing the both of them? 

That's why today she'd decided to go to Master's storage shed. Not to spy on him. Not to confront him or attack him. 

She wanted to tell him that she had given up on her fanciful dream of a family. 

Ever since Master had begun to pull away, Audrey had searched her mind for what to do. She had imagined everything she could have done wrong, until, finally, she stopped thinking about her own actions and started to think about his. One day, their children would wonder why mommy didn't remember anything from her own childhood, and she'd have to lie, because the truth was that daddy and the other scientists took mommy's memories away forever.

Why did mommy forgive daddy? Well, daddy programmed mommy's brain...

That's when she realized that they could never have children, never have anything normal like that. It hurt her, but Audrey could accept that. What she couldn't tolerate was losing Master altogether.

It helped to tell these stories to herself. It reminded her. It made it easier for her to know what to do, and she guided her car into the parking lot outside the storage facility. It was gated, but she had copied the code down during her snooping phase.




Better Ch. 03



4-3-5-6

Master's unit was around the corner. She knew he might be mad to see her there, intruding in what he was doing. But she wasn't there to judge him. He'd see that.

"Audrey?"

She spun around, started to hear Master's voice.

"Master, I'm sorry, I'm—"

"Stop. I know you're...shit, you're probably scared to death."

"I didn't come here to spy on you," she said.

"I wouldn't care if you had," he said, pain in his voice. "You...I'm so sorry."

"Master," she said, "I know—"

"No. You don't," he said, shaking his head.

Audrey could sense a change. Master had seemed in such pain before, but now something was changing. A smile was breaking out.

"You don't know, because I couldn't tell you until I was sure. And you have a fucking incredible sense of timing. Come here."

Audrey didn't hesitate, and within a moment she was in Master's arms, kissing him passionately in the middle of the storage facility. She lost all feeling for time and space, hoping that the moment would last forever.

Alex led her to his shed, pulling up the loud metal door. Inside, Audrey saw a make-shift desk, with his laptop plugged in. All around the desk were white cardboard file boxes, with what looked like charts and other incomprehensible computer printouts spread throughout the room.

He grabbed a printout and held it up.

"Do you see this?" 

She nodded her head, though she had no idea where he was going with all this.

"I've looked for this...well, I wanted to find this before I even knew it existed. It's why I can do this..." 

Alex began looking around the cluttered storage room.

"Have you seen my green jacket?" 

Audrey, confused as she was by Master's ramblings, nevertheless spotted his familiar coat draped over a pile of black, spiral-bound notebooks. She walked over to pick it up for him, before he grabbed her by her arm.

"Let me get it—trust me."

She stopped in her tracks, and he clambered over boxes and what appeared to be more than a few crumpled bags of take-out to make it to his jacket. When he reached it, though, he didn't put it on, but instead rifled through the pockets until he found something; with his back turned to her, Audrey couldn't see exactly what it was.

Alex then paused, his eyes transfixed on those notebooks.

"Baby, do you remember Banff?" 

Audrey as about to tell him she didn't when she felt an uncanny feeling. She didn't have a memory of Banff, but the word itself made her shiver. She knew it in her bones somehow.

"What happened there?"

Alex's manic energy ceased; suddenly, he was solemn again.

"This isn't how—Audrey? This is going to be a lot for you. Do you want me to wait? I can do this slower."

"Tell me," she begged. "I'm so tired of being in the dark about everything."

Alex looked her up and down, as if he was apprising how sturdy she was.

"Banff is where your dad died. You were a little girl, and you talk about in these notebooks, and...Audrey?!?"

Audrey shook her head and found herself slumped against a heap of half-empty cardboard boxes.

"Master—the window! I...remember."

"I know," he said. "It's in here."

"It was fall, and the snow came early, and the maples still had leaves."

Audrey felt short of breath and lightheaded. It took a moment before she could speak.

"It's death."

Alex looked at her quizzically.

"It's death. The window. It's death. It's my dad dying. And I replayed it over and over..."

Alex looked into her eyes deeply, solicitously. For a moment, she felt like he was living her pain with her.

"...because you wanted to go away. To be with him."

"I was so lost."

"But now?"

"I...I just want to be with you," she said.

"Me too. It just took me longer to get there," he said, "because I never believed I deserve you. Shit, I still probably don't, but I'll work every day of my life to be worthy of you, to deserve to be called 'Master' by you."

"I knew you would never hurt me. I always knew."

"I didn't. I've been killing myself going over all this stuff again. I never thought I'd ever get a chance to go through this material after what happened. When you talked to me about kids, I just...I panicked. I knew I couldn't be the person you needed me to be with all this hanging over our heads, and I knew that I never want to use my power over you for selfish reasons. I had to make things right between us for real, or we'd never be happy. I thought I might find some answers, but I never knew the lies...I can't believe the lies they told."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Audrey said. "All that matters is that you're here now."

Master got down on one knee in front of her. It took a moment for Audrey to register what was unfolding before her.

"Audrey Sappery, you've changed my life in more ways than I can imagine. You've made everything better. But for a long time, all I could see was how I hurt you, how I ruined your life." 

Audrey started to cry, recognizing Alex's position on the floor as the prelude to a marriage proposal. Master is coming back to me...

"But now I know I was wrong about everything. I had to know what happened, and I dug and dug. And Lorenz died and Schmidt just didn't give a shit anymore—anyway, I got our old files. I didn't do it."

Audrey recognized the names of some of the lead researchers in the project Alex had been a part of. They'd been the ones to pin the blame for what happened to Audrey on him. Now Alex was crying more than she was. She smiled down at him, still uncertain what he meant.

"I broke protocol, but I didn't break you," he continued. "They should've just ended the trial, but fucking Lorenz and Willoughby, that cunt...they just cut into you. Over and over. Everyone tried to pin it on me, but, goddamn it, I didn't do this to you, baby. It wasn't me."

If she hadn't been crying before, she would have started at that moment. She could sense the weight of guilt and shame lifting from Alex.

"Audrey," he continued, "there's just one thing I want to know now—is there any chance that the most beautiful, most amazing, most alive woman I have ever met, would marry me?"

He produced a gorgeous ring.

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

Master took Audrey into his arms. Though the setting could not have been less romantic, she was glad that she had not waited a minute longer. She didn't want to be at a fancy restaurant tonight, or a hot air balloon, or whatever other kind of silly romantic gesture Master might have been dreaming up. She wanted to be engaged now. 

Master kissed her, and she suddenly lamented the lack of appropriate furniture. She wanted to feel him inside her, and though the cold floor might be better than nothing, it still wasn't as nice as a soft bed would be.

"Audrey, baby, stop," Master asked, though he didn't command.

Audrey let him speak, still clutching him tightly.

"I want you to know first that I've thought about what you said, and...I can't imagine a more perfect thing in the world than a little Audrey running around. And I know you will make a phenomenal mother."

Audrey smiled. She wished she didn't have her IUD now; no matter, it would be gone soon enough.

"Master, can I start calling you 'Daddy' already?"

"Only when I've got your sexy ass over my knee, baby."

Audrey giggled and looked down at her ring as it sparkled in the light. She couldn't wait to wear it with her collar—and nothing else.

"Will you still want me when I'm pregnant and huge?"

"I might give you a break from spankings," he intoned, "but I'll never stop wanting you. You belong to me—and I belong to you."

"Let's go home and practice making a baby," she said with a sly grin. "Before we end up practicing in the middle of the floor here!"

Alex took a long, loving look at her.

"Let's go home."

Thanks for sticking with the story. I always planned to cut this one off after three chapters, but there is a part of me that wonders if I'll come back to these characters some day. Hope you all enjoyed, and don't forget to vote and comment!



Better Ch. 04



Chapter 4 - Andrea

Andrea: Of all the times I've spent with Michael and all the places we've been, he's always gone first class, but this by far was the most over the top. The shopping spree: eight dresses, six pairs of earrings, five pairs of shoes, five necklaces and three bracelets all for a whopping sum of what I make in a month. Hell, if he thought it was worth to spill that kind of change for a kinky exchange in a fitting room, I would have done it just for the thrill. Then there was the trim, the keratin treatment, the blowout, and the makeup Stephan used to fix me up for the night that went right in my bag along with a gift certificate for the lingerie shop next door where I picked up a couple of silk panties and matching bras -- and it wasn't as if I could wear a bra with any of the dresses he bought for me.

I walked into our room, a suite actually, wearing one of my new dresses and a pair of shoes and heard Michael go quiet on a phone conversation he was having. 

"Excuse me, but I'll have to get back to you later, maybe tomorrow," he said.

He tossed his phone on the desk, walked directly toward me without saying a word, and pinned me face forward against the wall. He pulled my dress off, leaving me only in my heels, and penetrated me from behind, whether I was wet or not, but of course I was. Very. And the wetter I got, the harder and faster he slammed into me.

"Faster, damn it! Faster!" I commanded. "I want to feel you as deep inside of me as you can get!"

He took to my commands at face value and more, pulsing into me so hard that that front of me was pounded onto the wall like a fixture that was never going to come off. As I let out a stream of cum that made me weak in the knees, he pulled out slightly, smacked my ass cheek hard, and went back to drill me some more. I could hear him growl and feel him tense as he tried to hold back, but he couldn't.

"Ahhh ... yes, Rohhh ... Michael!" I cried as I slowly unglued myself from the wall, letting Michael hold me from behind as he pulled my hair up and kissed me on the side of my neck with his soft lips that barely touched my skin. My entire body went from being tight and stiff to wanting to quiver, collapse and fall to the floor. He promptly held me up to catch my fall and looked straight into my eyes.

"Please tell me you weren't going to say another man's name," he said.

"Uh ... my dear, I couldn't find words," I sighed, trying to catch my breath and reorient myself. "Any words. The English language was almost entirely wiped from my mind."

That was partially true. I couldn't think of where I was or what I was thinking, but the past several minutes were much like a particular time with Robert when I intentionally bent down from the hips to pick up a scrap piece of something off my kitchen floor and he drove me to the table, ripped my pants down, bent me over the table and fucked me like two pit bulls in heat. But unlike Robert, Michael brought me back to the way we usually connected post-coloitally -- tenderly, lightly and lovingly.

I cracked a smile, knowing I was in a safe place with him.

"I wasn't expecting that from you," I said, wrapping my arms around his still-clothed body. 

He smiled, kissed me on the lips, held me close, and said, "I've learned not to expect anything when I'm with you, even in my best laid plans. Speaking of best laid plans, we need to get cleaned up and dressed up. There's a plate of oysters and a couple of flutes of champagne waiting for us in the lobby bar."

To anyone passing us by in the bar, we looked like the kind of proper, well-heeled, blissfully in love couple that peopled envied and said, "I wish that was me." He let me hold onto the crook of his arm like a gentlemen as we climbed the stairs of the ornate mid-1920's extravagantly restored concert hall to a private box just for the two of us where there were more champagne and finger foods. During the show, we'd scan the audience nearby before I'd rub my hand over his cock or he'd slip his hand on my thigh under the hem of my dress, each time sliding closer to the apex of my legs. Madeleine Peyroux was exquisite, and sang most of the songs off her new album, most of which Michael had loaded in his iPod and played earlier that morning during our two rounds of reunion sex in the suite. I laughed to myself that I hadn't picked up a hint of what was to come later in the evening.

Thank goodness we had a sedan that drove us back to the hotel. Tipsy, we made out like teenagers with Michael trying to score like a hot and horny captain of the varsity football team with the homecoming queen. I tried to push off his advances since there was no divider between us in the back seat and the driver up front, but Michael finally silenced me with an open-mouthed kiss and prodded his finger inside of me until I left a tell-tale puddle on the seat. Wanting to finish off what we started, I slipped off my dress as soon as we walked back into the room and sat on the edge of the bed with a "come get me" look as he undressed in front of me. As he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, he said, "As much as I would love to have my hands all over you now, we have to get some sleep. We have a plane to catch in the morning."



Better Ch. 05



Chapter 05 - Robert

I met my best buds, Roger and Billy, up at the bar to catch the baseball game. Strangely, I felt a bit detached from the rib poking and shit kicking that normally ensued whenever we got together and beers and shots were involved. I tried my best to keep up, but both of them knew I wasn't up on my game.

"Robert, dude," Roger said. "I can't believe you missed it. That hot blonde at the corner of the bar with her friends. She's got the hots for you and you haven't even noticed."

I turned my head and said something like, "Oh," and turned back to stare at the screen. 

"She already walked by once, checking you out," Billy said. "You gotta jump on her. I'll take her friend in the hippie dippie sundress."

"Go for it," I told Billy "I just want to watch the game."

Billy got up and left and Roger said to me, "You're not watching the game. You're just staring at the screen and you're a shot and a beer behind us," pointing at the still full bottle and glass in front of me."

"I just have stuff on my mind," I told Roger.

"Stuff?" Roger asked. "Everything going OK with work?"

"Yeah, work's cool," I said.

"Don't tell me; you're hung up on a woman," Roger said. "I know that look. I've just never seen it on you before."

Roger was right. I was never much of a one-woman man except Brianne who I was with for a couple of years a while ago. The woman had some moves in and out of the bedroom. The sex was great. Half the time we went out, she had this way of hooking us up with another chick or another couple. I swear she could go down on a chick better than I ever could and she could take a banging from both ends. But sex with Brianne wasn't electrical like it was with Andrea. I just couldn't connect with her mentally or emotionally the way I do with Andrea. She didn't read me and know what moves to pull to drive me wild before I even knew what hit me. I couldn't break down the barriers that she put up at times. I eventually found out why: she had a thing going on with some douchebag who only wanted her around when it was convenient for him.

And here I was, being that same kind of douchebag with Andrea, mostly because I enjoyed my freedom of choice up until now. That, and I was afraid of losing my sense of spontaneity and feared falling into the routine and ordinary and getting burned again if we became a couple. I told this to Roger, and that she was spending her time as we spoke with some rich guy from out of town who's married.

"So she says banging someone else," Roger said. "Whether she is or isn't, I think she's pulling a game to suck you in. She could have never told you and you would have never known." 

"I don't think so," I said. "I know she has it bad for me and I've played her, or at least I thought I played her. But when it comes down to it, I really dig her and there's this energy between us that I can't explain or understand. She's smart, she's fun, she puts up with my shit, and she's sexy. But she also says she deserves better, and I have to agree with her." 

"You feel this way because you know she's with someone else right now, but as soon as he leaves, she'll be wanting some of that monster cock you say you have," Roger said as he handed me my shot glass. "Go over there, make friends with that blonde, and get Annabelle or whatever the fuck her name is out of your head," 

Carrie, the blonde, was too easy to hook. She wasn't even three-quarters done with the chocolate martini I ordered for her when she leaned over, slid her hand over my crotch, and said, "You're fuckalicious. Gracie and I live just down the street. Why don't you and your friend follow us over there?"

Billy's ears perked up when he heard Carrie and mouthed, "Yes, dude!" I really had no choice, even if I and my cock weren't up for it.

Carrie and Gracie were every man's dream. They had a house just a block out of town with a hot tub on the back deck. As soon as they got us our drinks, they walked outside, stripped off their clothes, sat on the edge of the hot tub, and started kissing and fondling each other's breasts, enticing us with their murmurs and giggles. Billy sat back in the tub looked as if he was doing everything he could not to jack off in front of us. He finally got into the action when Carrie spread her legs open with her eyes focused on me as Gracie dipped in to get between her legs. It didn't take him long to slide his finger in and out of Gracie's ass as she got Carrie off with her tongue. 

I just sat back and watched, still fully clothed, lighting up another cigarette as I dangled my bottle of beer by the neck off the side of the patio chair. Carrie was entertaining but only in the way some chick pulling off a cheesecake act in a video would. She motioned me to come over to play with her nipples as she tried to get off with Gracie's face buried in her pussy. She had a nice set of tits that were surgically enhanced with nipples that were rock hard. I went through the motions of pinching, pulling and tweaking on them, keeping her on edge until she finally came. Billy and Gracie floated over to the other side of the tub to do some more poking, prodding and pulling while Carrie looked at me and asked, "Do you want to come inside?"

I sighed, gave her a well-meaning smile, and said, "You're a great girl, but I've had a long day, and my day starts pretty early tomorrow. Let's do this, just the two of us, some other time."

She pulled my phone out of my pocket, typed in her number, and said, "Would love it. Call me sometime." 

I got to my car, erased Carrie's number, and looked at my text log to Andrea. 

"How much time do you have after our shoot, my lady?"

"With apologies to Joni Mitchell, I could drink a case of you."

My lady? I don't say stuff like that to women I just fuck. It rubbed off from a conversation we had about "A Midsummer's Night Dream," and what she said about how much joyful fucking around that should have been going on in that play. And that last text to her, the Joni Mitchell text, was actually very tender and sweet and I didn't even realize it at the time. I just thought I was playing off something she said about loving that song as a clever way to say how I wanted to lap every drop of cum out of her. No wonder why she told me about her feelings for me. I was certainly giving her mixed messages, and they were a mix of those of which I wasn't even aware. They were the same kinds of messages that I sent when I lifted her legs straight above her head and ran my fingers up and down the lips of her pussy, barely touching her soft, tender skin for what seemed like forever for her enjoyment. I was only lucky enough to see her quiver, to hear her let out soft breaths of "Ah's," and to watch her come over and over again. All of that was so much more beautiful than watching Carrie and Gracie play a cheap and silly version of "Girls Gone Wild." No wonder why I was so unmoved this evening.

I stared at the screen on my phone and debated what I wanted to say to her until I finally got the nerve to type: "When do you have time to get together? I have a surprise for you."

I hit the send key and hoped I would hear back from her soon.



Better Ch. 06



Chapter 06 - Michael

I knew leaving Andrea hanging was going to drive her nuts, like a little kid who spent weeks waiting to see what Santa would leave under the tree. Her childlike impatience was giddy and adorable as she tried to guess where we were going. It wasn't until we were in the charter plane with just the two of us on board when the pilot came up to us and said, "Our flight into Chicago will be about an hour and 20 minutes," that she found out.

"Chicago!" Andrea cried. "What are we going to do in Chicago?"

"Actually, my dear, I'm thinking of what we'll be doing on the way to Chicago," I said before I leaned in to kiss her luscious mouth as the plane started backing off toward the runway. 

Unlike the time the two of us met up in Atlanta to take a plane to Bahamas when we unsuccessfully tried to initiate ourselves to the Mile High Club in a loo the size of a linen closet, we had the luxury of a Lear jet furnished in wide leather seats. I didn't bother to wait until we hit cruising altitude to kneel between her legs, push them apart, and indulge in her sweet luscious pussy, leaving her with plenty of room to prop her legs up and swirl her body around like me tongue deep inside of her. Watching her as I sucked and swirled, she looked like a rapturous goddess and felt like something supernatural as she let her body flail each time I brought her to orgasm. She finally bent down to grab my cock to stroke it firmly, and then tighter and faster, motioning me to get on my knees to slip inside of her glistening pussy. 

The whir of the engines and the pressure that blocked my ears muffled our moans and cries as we brought each other to the brink several times over made it feel surreal and unbelievable. It almost felt like as if I was dreaming until I felt the plane lowering to land, which gave me the cue to blast inside of her and to fall into her. I wished I could have stayed inside of her forever, but we both knew that we'd have to get up, straighten up, and look as if we just simply enjoyed our flight.

But being with Andrea was never just about sex, although it crept into the fun things we often set out to do when we were together. We had a great time watching the Giants annihilate the Cubs while we sat in the bleachers. We drank beer and ate peanuts that she fed to me. I licked the salt off of them as I would her clit every chance I felt safe trying to get away with it. We took the train to Rush Street to grab a stuffed pizza for dinner and then head out to a jazz club. We took a communal hi-top with a couple of young professional types who looked as if they turned Happy Hour into Happy Night.

"How long have the two of you been married?" one of them asked. It was a common question we got from people.

"Oh, we're not married," Andrea said. "I'm just his friend for the night."

The men's eyes lit up and the proverbial light bulbs flicked on. 

"So, if we were to pitch in, how much would it cost us to join you for the night?" one of them asked.

Andrea threw her head back and laughed as she slung one arm around me and said, "My rate is six grand for the day, and I don't take credit cards."

I tried not to laugh as their faces fell. They polished off their beers and headed off, thinking the rest of the night was definitely out of their budgets.

"Touché, my little hussy," I said as we clinked glasses. "Can I afford you for another day?"

"Well ..." she said, feigning to ponder. "I suppose I could cut you a deal if you take me dancing."

She knew I wasn't much of a dancer. I would have chosen to jump off Navy Pier naked instead of dancing, but it was either the cocktail or that had my head in a spin that made me take up her offer. 

We slipped a few buildings down the street to a blues bar where the loud, danceable band could be heard from the street. We snagged a table for two next to the dance floor that had just been vacated. She wasted no time pulling me onto the floor as soon as the band kicked into "Mustang Sally."

There was no danger of me shuffling on the floor like an uncoordinated white guy as she pressed her body close to mine and swayed her body -- those sexy almost bare shoulders, the subtle rotation of her hips, and the stance of her feet aligned with her shoulders -- at half time. I was very familiar with this dance in a horizontal state, but do to it standing upright with her hands sliding up the back of my leg up to the cusp of my ass was all the motivation I needed. As she turned around to rub the top of her ass against my cock, it turned to something like a solid tube of tempered glass -- strong, heavy and could handle some hard, repetitive, industrial use for several hours. 

Then a blonde came from across the floor with her eye on Andrea. She mimicked Andrea's moves as she came closer and closer. Soon the two of them were dancing together as Andrea was doing her slow shimmy in front of me. As their hips were grinding together, the blonde's hands made her way for my hips and my ass until a big, burly guy took her by the arm and hauled her away.

In an instant, the hardon of the century was gone. The last thing I needed was to have some Grizzly Adams type think was I messing around with his girlfriend or his wife.

"Let's get out of here," I said to Andrea. 

On our way out the front door, the big guy approached us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, but can you check to see if anything you had in your pockets is still there -- keys, cell phone, wallet?" he asked.

He had to be kidding, but I checked. They were all there, and everything inside my wallet was intact.

"I just wanted to make sure," the man said. "She and a bunch of girls play that game in the clubs here. We'll be happy to take care of your tab while you're here."

"Thanks, but we're done for the night," I said, as I pulled out a $100 bill for his attentiveness.

On the way back to the hotel, I asked Andrea, "So, you are interested in being with a woman?"

"I know I've always said, 'No,' but if it wasn't for that freakout factor, it was kind of fun, especially in the way it was turning you on," Andrea said. "But I don't think I could handle seeing you with another woman."

"You do know that I have sex with my wife," I said.

"I know that, but it's different, so you say," she said.

Worlds different. I could have never had the kind of time we had -- in and out of the bedroom -- over these past few days with my wife.

"But what if it was just you and another woman and me just being there?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said. "It's something I have to think about."

"Tell you what," I told Andrea when we got out of the cab in front of the hotel. "Go up to our room and get comfortable. I have some things to check on and take care of at the front desk."



Better Ch. 07



Chapter 7 - Andrea

For as many ways that Michael had a way of spoiling me in the lap of luxury when we're together, I always thrilled and bowled over every time he pulled off the "little" surprises and touches, like the plate of chocolate truffles and the bottle of Taittinger vintage brut. This was definitely going to be a black lace corset, stockings and heels kind of night.

Michael had a glisten in his eye and a gleam in his smile as he came through the door with a medium-sized cardboard box.

"As much fun as we had out today, I'm thinking I should have picked up this package earlier," he said as he tore the box open and pulled out a satiny black sleep mask.

"Gosh, and I thought that smile was for me," I said as he put the mask on me.

"It is, and there's more for a sassy girl like you," he said as he gave me a couple of light smacks on the ass before sitting me on the edge of the bed.

I could hear plastic wrapping being torn away and crumpled from the area of the table on which he laid the box. Then there was the sound of a soft thud and a light metal clang that sounded as if they made contact with the table. 

"So, what else do you have for me?" I asked with all my girlish charm.

"You'll find out soon enough," he said as I could hear him ripping through more plastic wrap and placing more similarly sounding items on the table. 

Michael gave me a gentle kiss on the lips and glided his hand along the inside of my arm all the way to my wrist. He stopped to hold it firmly as he wrapped a wide, soft leather band around it.

"Oooh! Darling!" I exclaimed. "I thought you didn't have an interest in such implements!"

"Well, you've dropped enough hints over the years, and the more I looked into this, the more I learned this is more all about your pleasure," he said as he heard him secure and tighten the band with some kind of metal fastener. What I didn't expect was the sound of a chain and the metal clicking sound that attached to the band.

"And you know how much I enjoy basking you in pleasure," he added.

I swore I could hear him wink. Or maybe it was that same tone in his voice that he used when he did wink at me. Or had winkful thoughts.

"Here, put your arm like this," he said as he dropped my upper arm and bent my forearm up from the elbow. The chain pulled my arm out bent, slightly stretched out, but rather comfortably when I was able to let it drop from the taut chain.

"I have to admit that I always thought of bondage as being a brutal and barbarian thing, but seeing you like this in this gorgeous lace corset, your lovely legs in those stockings and how they look in those high heels, that you look beyond beautiful," he said as he drew his hand down my other arm, repeated the same routine as the first arm.

I felt a strong pulsing sensation deep in my loins I swore could have been measured on a Richter scale even though he hadn't touched me between my legs yet. He finally got around to barely touching the inside of my thigh, which made me wiggle and shift that usually gave him the signal that I wanted to be touched just a little more forcefully just a finger length away. I knew I could tell him if I really wanted to, but I felt couldn't impress my will with the blindfold on and my arms held in place. It was strange how the loss of my sight and ability to touch put me at his mercy. 

As his hands slowly trailed down my leg to my ankle, he spread my leg outward and I felt another leather band being wrapped and secured around my ankle. I heard the familiar clang of the buckles and the chains. If only I could see myself. If only I could see the look on his face.

"My goodness, you are beautiful," he said as I heard him attach the last chain to the ankle of my second foot. "I will have these visions of you like a photo album imbedded in my mind forever."

Now I could understand why he held off giving my lips and the tight opening between my legs the attention they were begging for earlier. His touch wouldn't have been quite as intense as they would be once his hands that were drifting their way back up my legs would reach their final destination. I knew what his fingers, lips and tongue could do, and my deep and heavy breaths tried to convey that. I'm sure he could see what I was feeling by the way my pussy swaggered and swayed in front of him.

Instead, I felt his hands pull away, and I could hear his voice drifting off as he said, "You've been so cooperative. I think you deserve a treat."

I could hear the muffled "pop" of the Taittinger Reserve being opened. I could hear the bubble-laced liquid being poured into a glass.

"Here, my sweet," he said as he tipped the rim of the crystal flute onto my lips. I couldn't think of a more romantic, decadent, and oh-so-wrong way to consume this elixir that popped on my tongue like the lightest of kisses and subtlety iced my throat with its almost sweet liquid dryness. 

I opened my mouth like a newly-hatched bird would with its wide open beak and its bobbing head, searching for a worm or a bug from its mother it could not yet see. I swore I could feel the next sip coming to my lips, but this time it was the soft-formed chocolate of a truffle that he let half-way into my mouth, keeping it on my teeth until I bit into it. I held onto the taste of raspberry and chocolate with a hint of espresso linger in my mouth until it completely coated and dissolved down my throat. The flavor and the taste was bigger, bolder and louder than anything I had ever eaten.

Michael brought the glass to my lips again. This time, he sucked on my tongue and my lips as if he was trying to taste any remnants of the wine that was left behind, and then pulled away. I leaned forward to properly finish that kiss, wanting to suck in his tongue and curl around it tightly with the intent to not let it go.

Then I felt the soft and lightest touch of two of his fingers trail on top of my open pussy lips, from the bottom to the top, making a quick and deliberate flip over my clit over the lace of my panties. I let out the biggest sigh over that one brief touch. The nerve endings of my lips and inner walls created a low running buzz from the wetness with which it came in contact. When I realized his hand pulled away and wasn't coming back, I only had the strength and spirit to barely whisper, "More, please." 

My body began to tense again as did my breathing. When that didn't work as a cue to touch me, I began to flail my legs.

"If you only knew how hard it is for me not to take that pussy as my own, but I've never seen you more beautiful than you are now," he said. "You're the picture of elegance trapped raw, yearning lust I won't get to see if I have my way with you, but if you'll allow me one small indulgence ..."

His hand trailed up my torso to one of my breasts and slid its way through the top of my corset and squeezed my breast firmly. I threw my head back and let out a low, soft moan. Right before I could completely let out my breath, he pinched my nipple and slipped a finger under the warm and damp crotch of my panties and between my extremely slippery lips. I could swear I was dripping on his finger.

I slid my hips toward him to guide him to probe deeper and clenched my inner walls to lock in his finger. His finger twisted as it tried to pull out. Perhaps he really wasn't in as much control as he thought. Or maybe he was.

I could feel him come face-to-face with me with his lips brushing up against my lips as he mouthed these words: "You really want my tongue to probe you deep inside? To drink from your juices that flow so freely?" 

"Yes," I sighed.

He nudged his finger a bit further inside and asked, "Or do you want my finger?"

"Yes!" I commanded.

He slipped a second finger inside, forced both of them inside deeper still with his fingertips pressing on the contours, and asked, "Or do you want two fingers?"

The intensity of what I was feeling was almost more than I could handle. My response was a loud and unequivocal: "Yes!"

My walls clenched tighter as he stroked them in an out. I knew by the soft and loan groan that was coming out of the bottom of my throat that I was about to come hard at any change of touch, rhythm or sound.

A third finger invaded my hole and sent me screaming. I could not contain any level of control inside my body or my mind as his fingers plunged in and out of me and his firm thumb circled over my clit relentlessly. I could feel myself climaxing like never before, but I just couldn't completely let go. I couldn't stop screaming. I couldn't find the end of what I was feeling and I didn't want to, not even when the pace of Michael's probing fingers slowed and pulled out gently one at a time.

When my heart beat and breathing came back to normal, Michael kissed me on the lips and asked in his most tender voice, "Do you need me to unlatch you?"

I nodded. It was only then that I realized that my arms felt achy and sore. He unlatched the wrist cuffs from the chains and my arms dropped limp. He took each arm and moved it back and forth, up and down until they felt flexible and limber again. He gave me sips of champagne until my mouth felt fully hydrated again.

He laid me on my back and kissed me as he took my hands above my head and locked my wrists together. My legs, which were still secured taught at each end of the foot of the bed, exposed the opening to my drenched pussy even wider to him and the cool room air. 

"You are a disheveled mess, my dear, and more beautiful than ever," he said, unfastening the chains that secured my ankles at the bottom of the bed. 

He pulled my legs together and let them go limp off the bottom of the mattress. He picked up each leg, one at a time, and let them fall limp until I felt no stiffness.

"But I am not done with you, my sweet," he said, with a devilish tinge in voice as he walked away. He came back and put two pillows under my ass cheeks. I could hear the chains being repositioned on the spindles at the foot of the bed.

My body began to squirm. My legs resisted his insistence of being lifted up in the air and reattached to the chains that were now above the mattress. I would have voluntarily opened my legs for him. I wanted them wrapped around his hips and back.

I heard the sound of his shirt falling to the floor, the unbuckling of his pants, and the pull of his zipper of his pants before they, too, hit the floor. I could feel the movement of him crawling over me and straddling me on each side of my shoulder before the tip of his cock landed on my lips. 

"Tell me that you love my cock," he said, pressing it through my lips.

"I love your cock," I mumbled as best I could with my lips around his thin-skinned tip that was being stretched by his hard and rigid rod.

"Show me how you love it," he insisted by shoving it in deeper inside after every time he pulled away. The deeper he forced it in, the tighter my mouth held it in with my tongue trying to lap around it on all sides. The more of his cock I took in, the more I wanted it in the spot between my legs that was becoming wet again. I could feel my fluids dripping down my ass. I tried to mumble where I wanted him to be, but my requests were indecipherable. I'm sure he had to know. My legs were tensing inward, trying to preserve my orgasm for when he finally decided he needed something other than my mouth. 

He finally pulled his cock out of my mouth and tore the blindfold off my eyes. His penetrating gaze never left my eyes as he backed up, walked around to the foot of the bed, and rubbed his wet cock against the slipperiness of my open lower lips.

"How bad do you want it?" he asked.

"Bad," I said, being forthright.

Still stroking on the tips of my lower lips, he asked, "How deep do you want it?"

"Deep," I said, louder.

Without warning, he plowed his cock all the way in and let it slip and slide in and out a few times until he asked, "How hard do you want it?"

"Hard!" I said, even louder.

"How hard?" he asked as he picked up the tempo.

"Harder!" I yelled.

"Harder?" he asked.

"Yes!" I screamed.

His groin made full contact with the skin between my legs. His balls flung against my ass with every thrust. Our eyes never unlocked until I just couldn't hold back on a stream of cum that coated his cock and a scream I'm sure that probably woke and startled anyone sleeping in half of the downtown area.

He slowed down as soon as I tried to catch my breath. He wasted little time in wanting to continue.

"Again?" he asked with his head cocked and an impish grin on his face.

"Yes," I said, vixen-like, tightening my insides around his eager cock again.

This time, his strokes were long and languid, like lying on a boat on waves that slowly rocked up and down and back and forth. As he picked up his rhythm, so did the tingling on my slick walls.

"Faster?" he asked.

"Yes," I said in the most encouraging way.

He didn't heed my request, or should I say, my command. Instead, he unhooked the chains from my ankle cuffs and brought my legs against his chest as he leaned in closer to me. Then he started plowing into me with a vengeance. I could tell from the look on his face and the by way he was starting to make guttural noises that he needed to let loose from deep inside. I lifted my hips as far up as I could to crash into his every almost pulverizing move. The farther he leaned into me, the more I came and the louder I screamed. I knew he was trying to hold back for as long as he could, but I just couldn't resist saying as loud as I could, "I want to feel you blast your hot stream deep inside of me!"

Michael shifted gears, turned up the power, and set himself into overdrive. We went at it as if we were scorching the sheets and setting ourselves on fire. I was leaking fluids all over the place and thoroughly soaked the pillow under my ass. If that wasn't enough for him, he pulled down the top of my corset and tweaked my nipples hard, making my climax feel as if it was spiraling out of control with no end. The tighter I clenched my pussy and the louder I screamed, I could feel his cock feel as if it was going to burst, I could see and feel how he wanted to let loose in earnest.

He finally let go, first with a blast and then with a trail of cum that continued to let his still hard cock cruise between my legs. The wrenched look on his face softened to a glow that cast over me. I could do this all night with my legs wrapped around his shoulder like the embrace I couldn't give him with my hands restrained and stretched above. Still, we were linked in a closeness we weren't quite ready to give up.

He asked me to bring my hands forward to unlock the bands. I pulled him in for a long and still embrace as he fell upon me, locked between my legs. 

"That wasn't so barbaric, was it?" I asked.

He rolled over, laughed, gave me a warm, firm kiss, and said, "In every delightful way possible."



Better Ch. 08



Chapter 8 - Michael


In the time I've known Andrea, she never ceases to amaze me. However, I know I'm approaching some very dangerous territory with her. 

From the beginning, we had an understanding that there would never be a happily-ever-after. It just wasn't that I have a wife, who, aside from the pedestrian sex, was a pretty decent woman. Had I not met Andrea, I would have been faithful and not given having an affair second thought. Plus, I have two teenagers. I'd hate to put them through the messiness of a divorce.

But getting away to see her every month or two was starting to get problematic. There were only so many excuses I could make to get away from work, and my wife and family. The more took the risk in being absent, the more I wanted to see Andrea and have her be a part of my life. I was breaking a promise of something I, and we, swore to never do: fall in love.

This was more than just mind-blowing sex. Over the past few months, our intimate encounters were becoming bolder and braver, especially in these past few days. It was in the way that she opened herself up to expressing herself that allowed me to make some moves I never had the courage to act upon before, like last night. I had often daydreamed over pictures of women bound in cuffs, ropes and chains, but never had the nerve to act upon my fantasies, even when Andrea hinted that she wanted to be tied, secured, and left helpless to be ravaged at my uncensored will. When I finally got the nerve to do that, I was amazed at how liberating it felt.

That mind-opening bravery also changed the way I was doing business. I was becoming more creative and felt more fulfilled. I found myself approaching and talking with others in much more happier and engaging ways. I noticed it how it was changing the mood and morale of my office staff. I saw it in the way I interacted with friends and colleagues. Life was becoming more fun, and more dynamic, and it all had to do with the way Andrea made me feel, even when I wasn't with her.

I knew I couldn't and shouldn't have her, but I needed her, just as I needed her as I watched her sleep as she slept on her side with her arms and legs sprawled before her. Her breathing kept her lulled in silence and hadn't let her move since she fell asleep next to me after our lengthy post-coital recovery. I didn't want to disturb her, but I just couldn't resist wanting one last time with her before we were to leave that evening.

I turned her around, slowly and gingerly, onto her back, and then gradually spread her uncovered legs apart. All I could do was marvel at her exposed opening to that place that led to so many ways that I was able to feel highs no other mind- or body-altering substances could take me. I wondered what it really felt like for her whenever I stroked and tickled those soft, delicate and moist folds around the outside of her hole. I wondered what triggered her to moan and wail whenever I rubbed and pushed on that pearl of a clit, especially when I slid my fingers inside of her just as I found myself doing. 

She swiveled her hips ever so slightly as my fingers drew in and out of her damp insides. It was if she was dancing on her back the way she moved her body close to mine on the dance floor at the club last night, except she never opened her eyes. Her moans were quiet as if she were sounding out in a dream. She had my fingers so incredibly wet without even tensing up of coming. I didn't want to rouse her. I just wanted to enjoy this quiet and relaxed one-sided exchange with her. 

I took my thumb and gave a feathery touch to her clit, which started to harden with my touch. I rubbed it back and forth as my fingers continued to slip in and out of her slippery vaginal walls. I felt her body go from limp to limber to slightly tense as her movements took on a bit more power and force. I knew too well, although it was never routine, how her bud would grow and harden like a gem the moment I tickled it with the tip of my tongue. I knew how it would make her back arch the moment I sucked on it between my lips.

I found my lips lapping up her juices that were dripping out of her pussy like a sweet and musky sap. Her hips lifted a bit from the mattress as if they were inviting me in to suck in more from her stream. The more I licked her tight and sensitive inner walls, more of her warm elixir came rushing to my tongue. Her hips began to gyrate and her sleepy moans resonated in my ears. Without a thought and without words, I bent her knees up and thrust my cock inside of her, and plowed it deep inside over and over again. I could watch my slick, glistening cock move in and out of her all day long. I could feel her insides clenching my cock and lubricating it endlessly every time I wound her up with orgasm after orgasm. I couldn't tell if she was fully awake; she looked as if she were in some kind of erotic dream state that I could not bring myself to interrupt. 

Normally, she felt and knew when I was about to come, and she'd either release herself come down from her orgasm to keep me going or she'd urge me to come. This time, she just left herself whole and open for me to shoot my hot, sticky stream inside and then on her inner lips, between her legs, and on her groin and lower belly – and there was something so sweet about it. I fell flat on top of her and rubbed my still-hard cock back and forth over those soft sweet lips that I only set out to get lost in a daydream through my eyes. In spite of what I knew was "right," I loved this woman and had to have more of her.



Better Ch. 09



Chapter 9 - Andrea

"Well, good morning to you!" were the only words that could come out of my mouth after I realized I was fully awake with Michael on top of me. I didn't know exactly what led to him pounding his way into me like a slippery jackhammer, but it was the nicest way I had ever woken up, especially with that Cheshire cat grin on his face.

"I wish I could stay with you this morning, but I have a 7:30 breakfast meeting and meetings through the rest of the day," he said. "But I want you to have fun by yourself, order whatever you want for breakfast and lunch, and whatever niceties you want to indulge in ... a manicure, a massage ... if you don't feel like going out. I've arranged for a late check-out at five before we head out to dinner and back home."

"Oh, home," I sighed. "Do we have to?"

I knew we had to, but I knew there would be more times like this to come.

I slipped into the shower after he left, which gave room service just enough time to bring up a pot of coffee, a fruit and cheese tray and a copy of the Tribune. I took a glance at my phone to see that it had just enough power, if that, to get back to the texts and emails I had ignored over the past two days. I got to my work emails first, followed by messages from my mother ... all three of them ... and then Robert.

"When do you have time to get together? I have a surprise for you," his message read.

Surprise? What could that be? A raging eight-inch hard-on? I've had two-and-a-half days filled with surprises of the most unbelievable kind, but I knew as soon as I got on that plane ... by myself ... it would be over until the next time, whenever that would be. 

Robert had filled in the time with great laughs and earth-moving sex, but then he was gone until the next time he was available, and for a while, that was fine. But before Michael swept me away for these few days, I had that inkling that Robert wanted to take things to the next step. I thought I felt it in the way he seemed to care that I was conflicted in my confession to him about Michael, but in the end, he left me to myself.

To be honest, Michael really stepped up his game over these past few days, and the bonus was in those times we were apart when there would bouquets that would show up at my door without warning and love poems that pinged at random in my inbox. If I was having a bad day, Michael was always a phone call away as my sounding board. If there was happy news to share on his end, I was usually the first to hear about it. Either way, I couldn't have either man the way I really wanted.

I couldn't get either man out of my head as I stepped out and tried to get lost in the shopping Nirvana otherwise known as the Miracle Mile. But what was the point? I had two brand-new suitcases stuffed with dresses, shoes and lingerie that weren't part of my wardrobe only a few days ago. Another dress or another pair of earring was not going to make me happy or answer my questions about whether to keep both or just one of these men in my life or break free and be open for better to come along.

I tried the mani-pedi therapy, but all it did was remind me of the way I had on several occasions dragged my fingernails down Robert's back when he'd plunge his cock as far as it could go inside of me and then pull back teasingly to keep me from the point of getting sucked into an orgasmic vortex into each other's bodies and minds. The manicurist's lotioned hands reminded me of the time on the beach after dusk in Santa Cruz when Michael rubbed my feet deeply and tenderly to the point I my swimsuit was already wet between my legs before we floated into the water to make love in the waves.

The internal conflict was draining and was compounded by not having several nights of solid sleep. I sought solace back in the hotel room where I tried to lull myself to sleep by running my hands over my unclothed body. My hands grazed up my arms and along my shoulders and then down to cup and caress each breast. As I squeezed a nipple, one hand fell over my tummy and toyed with venturing into my nether regions. Was that Michael's hand that brushed over the tender folds of my skin? Or was that Robert's strong and merciless penetrating fingers that eventually loosened the grip on every muscle in my body that let me drift off into a deep and thoughtless sleep?

I eventually woke up with only an hour to pack my bags and get ready for dinner, which we had downstairs in the hotel restaurant. Over bites of roasted quail with unexpected flavors of apple and ginger, Michael asked a very unexpected question.

"Would you give any thought to moving out to the coast, closer to me?" he asked.

I had fantasized about it once or twice, but never took the thought seriously until he said, "I could rent you a studio in the city, close to my office, at least on a short-term business until you got your business up and running. I showed your book to the creative director at our ad agency. She liked it. A lot. She said she could use you for our new campaign coming up on a freelance basis, at least to start."

I didn't know what to say. I already had quite a busy calendar with well-paying gigs with magazines and agencies that I had spent years cultivating. I was one of those rare people who wasn't always pitching their book to make their next rent payment, and this went well beyond the hundreds of times we said, "I wish you were here," over fiber optic lines and cell tower relays.

"I wish I had some warning," I said. "It sounds as if you've been planning this for quite some time," I said.

"I've thought about it, I've kicked it around in my head, but I wanted to ask you at just the right time," he said.

As much as this moment scared and confused me, I wanted to hold onto it forever. 

"I really have to think about this, and we really have to talk about this, but right now, I really need time to digest this," I said.

"That's all I ask of you, my dear," he said as he reached out for my hands and barely touched his lips on mine.



Better Ch. 10



Chapter 10 - Andrea

Michael's proposal was all I thought about since he gave me his parting kiss at the gate. My pragmatic side kept saying this was such a bad idea. Aside from him, I knew no one in the Bay Area, but our times together would be much more frequent and without all the disruption of taking time away from work. I could fly out to be with family during the holidays, but even these days with my siblings and their families in other parts of the country, those occasions when we all got together in one place at the same were becoming fewer and farther in between. I supposed I could fly out to Charleston, Albuquerque or Louisville just as easily. But where would he be on Valentine's Day or his birthday? With his wife, of course.

But San Francisco could eventually lead to more and more important work than what I was doing in Detroit. It wasn't as if I didn't enjoy the work I was doing, but the internal debate kept running in the back of my mind. The pros and cons came more to the forefront as I turned my phone back on at the end of the shoot I just wrapped up when I saw another text from Robert.

"Are you OK? Haven't heard from you in a while."

I wasn't ready to answer that question either.

Over the next few days, I was jammed with work and Michael kept asking if I thought any more about his idea and if I had time to get away to do some apartment hunting. All I wanted to do at the end of the day was to find my inner peace on the couch with a glass of mead and a good movie. 

As was drifting in and out of scenes of "Out of Africa" a few nights after I got back from Chicago, I swore I could hear chords of "I Could Drink a Case of You" being strummed in the hallway outside of my apartment. I thought it was my half-awake mind playing tricks on me until I heard a voice that sounded like Robert's sing: "Just before our love got lost you said/'I am as constant as a northern star/And I said 'Constantly in the darkness/Where's that at?/If you want me I'll be in the bar.'" 

I cracked the door open and saw him playing and singing in a voice that wasn't rough and gravely in the way it got when he tried to tear down my defenses to bed me. Instead, light and sweet. He stopped as soon as he saw me, put down his guitar, and took my face in his hands to give me a long, lush kiss that swept me away from the door and onto the couch. His touches were soft and all over me as if he was a hopeful beau who finally got the courage to touch a longtime crush. His kisses ran along my cheek, the side of my neck, and up to my ear where he whispered, "I want to make love to you like it's the first time."

I returned the purposeful stare that he cast into my eyes. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't even speak. I just returned the kiss and let him lift my old, baggy T-shirt over my head, completely forgetting that I was hardly dressed to be romanced, let alone be seen by anyone. My hand found its way up to his chest underneath his shirt and I could feel his heart pounding as his warm breath quickened from his kisses that trailed to one of my breasts. Instead of attacking my nipple with a deliberate pinch like he usually did, his lips savored it. I could feel a light tingle on my pussy, but I wasn't ready to let him go there, and he was in no hurry to do so.

In one swift swoop, he lifted me from the couch and carried me into my bedroom where we undressed each other with our eyes locked in place, not saying a word. I had no idea what he wanted to say if he could, but the message that I got as he sat me on the edge of the bed and pulled off my shorts was that this was going to be more like a slow ride on a still river instead the wild, racy romps we had been on before. 

I felt as if I were floating as he laid me on my back and spread my legs open to lavish his tongue inside of me. He slipped a finger along the lower part of my walls and stroked it in and out slowly as his tongue swirled around. My sighs were barely audible, almost like a soft wind. As his finger and tongue picked up the pace, still in a gentle way, my pussy softly pulsated toward his mouth.

But for as much as he was putting me in such a blissful state, what I wanted even more was to be able to touch him and be touched all over, to which he totally obliged. Our arms and legs and hands and feet tangled everywhere as if we were discovering each other for the first time. 

As if he were asking for permission, he got up, lifted my legs straight up, and said, "I have to have you."

He slid into me slowly and I felt his wanting cock pierce into me as if I were a virgin. His strokes inside of me were long and languid as if he was aware of every slick contour inside of me. My fingers didn't dig into his skin like they usually did, but my fingertips tousled through his hair and then ran up and down his arms as I wrapped my legs around him like a hug. There was no rush for me to come like a rabid animal. Instead, his protrusions from on top and then on my side produced one, long almost orgasmic buzz that kept going and going and kept him wet and well-paced for a long haul. 

We must have twisted and turned with each other at least a half dozen different ways until we both knew there was no holding back. The connection between us grew more fervent and frantic as we both knew we had desires to unleash ... together. He never took his eyes off of me when he leaned over me and tried to time his climax to meet mine. In one crashing bang, I felt as if we crashed and crumbled like a landslide.

He rolled over and we both started giggling. At a point where I thought I had written him out of my life, there he was, and I couldn't have been happier to see him. I wanted to tell him, but the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "How did you get in the building?"

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed as he jumped out of bed, threw on his shorts, and ran out the door. He came back in the room carrying a box of wine.

"I forgot I left this outside your front door," he said. "I had a full case, but I had to bribe one of your neighbors with a really nice bottle of an Australian Cabernet. I think it was the best of the bunch,"

I smiled and laughed so hard that I almost started shedding tears.

"You're crying because I gave away part of your gift?" he asked as he wiped a runaway tear out of the corner of one of my eyes.

We both cracked up hysterically.

"No," I said. "When you left me that text saying that you had a surprise for me, I thought it was something entirely different."



Better Ch. 11



Chapter 11 - Robert

When I left that message for Andrea telling her that I had a surprise for her, I really didn't have anything specific in mind except take her someplace nice out to dinner, pull her chair out for her, open doors for her like men do on real dates, which was something we never had before. Since I hadn't heard from her in several days, I knew I had to do something different and more direct. I hadn't planned on whisking her off to her bedroom, but it worked out better than I expected.

Instead of leaving after we had "come and done" like I normally did, I stayed, and we talked a great deal during the night about everything and nothing at all. We drank that bottle of wine and started on a second. I played what little I knew on the guitar for her. We sang bad songs from the '70's. We confessed about our first sexual experiences. She asked me about the most public place I had sex.

"In the coat room in the banquet hall where we had our engagement party," I said.

"Oh, you and your ex?" she asked. "I didn't know ..."

"It didn't last long," I said. "I never thought it was worth mentioning. You?"

"Well, I've always wanted to do it on the roof," she said with devilish look she had when she lowered her head and cast up eyes up at me.

Nothing else had to be said. We threw on the barest necessity of clothing, picked up a blanket and some pillows, and she practically raced me to the service stairs that led another two stories up to the roof. 

It turned out we weren't the only ones with that idea.

There was another couple who were sitting together gazing into the night sky. They looked as if they were in recovery mode. We were about to turn around until we heard the guy say, "Come over if you want." 

The guy threw on his shorts, the woman wrapped a side of the blanket over herself. Ironically, it was the same guy who took that bottle of wine off my hands to let me in. His name was Tim. He said just moved in from Charlotte about two months ago and lived a floor above Andrea. His friend's name was Shelly, who was a hairdresser. The two of them were an attractive couple about our ages.

"Did you try that wine?" I asked him.

"It was awesome. We'd offer you some, but ..." he said, waving an empty bottle.

I asked if they smoked. They both said, "Sure."

"What is this stuff?" Tim asked as he took a hit.

"Querkle," I said. "It's pretty mellow stuff, it lasts a long time. Andrea says it makes her horny."

We all laughed. We were already in this almost awkward situation of invading their private time, but considering it was obvious why we were all on the roof, it led us to some very easy conversation that was made even easier once the buzz started kicking in.

Shelly had this stare at Andrea that was absolutely distracting. It kept cutting off conversations we were trying to have.

"You have the most amazing nipples," Shelly said to Andrea.

"Why ... thank you," Andrea said, almost sounding as if she didn't quite know how to respond.

Shelly was right. Andrea really did have amazing nipples. They were almost always hard, and because she didn't bother putting on a bra over her light cotton T-shirt, they were poking out like two stones out of her perfectly rounded, firm breasts.

Shelly kept her eyes on Andrea, who was sitting cross-legged in front of my lap. I knew what her next move was going to be, and I was right.

"Do you mind if I touch them?" Shelly asked.

Andrea looked at me to gauge my response. Getting together with another couple was something we only talked about once, but she seemed pretty ambivalent about it. I gave her a sideways nod as if to signal for her to do what felt comfortable.

"Sure," she said.

Shelly let her blanket fall to the side crawled her naked body over to Andrea. My growing erection got twice as hard as soon as her fingers started toying with Andrea's nipples over the loose fabric of her shirt. Andrea let out some silent sighs. Seeing that she wasn't resisting, I lifted her shirt up above her breasts and Shelly really went at it, cupping Andrea's breasts in her hands, one at a time. I picked up Andrea's hand to show her how to gently squeeze and pinch Shelly's surgically-enhanced tits. Guiding Andrea's hand was hotter than if I had reached out and fondled Shelly's tits myself. I had been with two women plenty of times, but this was the most amazing time ever. It was so unplanned, so unrehearsed, and these were both beautiful women, not just some skanky chicks who were just doing this for attention. 

As soon as Andrea got the hang of playing with Shelly's tits on her own, I played with one of Andrea's tits while Shelly sucked on the other. Andrea uncrossed her legs, bent her knees and braced herself against my chest. Shelly took it as her cue to lean up to Andrea's mouth and kiss her deeply. It didn't take long for Tim to drop his drawers and stroke his sturdy, wide cock with one hand and plunge his fingers inside of Shelly with the other. From the way we were sitting, the only thing Andrea could do was reach around and alternate between grabbing my cock and my balls hard over the fabric of my shorts. I would have loved to have her hand on it without anything getting in the way, but there was no way I was going to disrupt the flow of things I was able to see from this vantage point. And I had to admit I was really impressed with Tim who was shaking his tree trunk of a dick that looked as if it could do some serious damage if it were to find its way into an asshole -- Shelly's or even mine.

Shelly released her kiss from Andrea as soon as she felt a monster of an orgasm coming on from Tim plowing between her legs with his entire hand. Andrea spun around, unfastened my shorts and went straight for my cock.

"You really want that cock, don't you?" I asked as if it were a command.

"Shut up! I'm trying to suck you off!" Andrea said.

Damn, if those weren't words I wanted to hear, and she said them in a way I never heard before -- harsh, bold and loud.

Andrea's juicy mouth went at my cock with a vengeance. She didn't bother to toy and tease with my head first; she just sucked as hard as she could and jerked me off as fast as she could to the point I felt I was going to go off like a rocket before even thinking about coming. She grabbed one of my ass cheeks and clenched it, making my entire body go stiff. I growled and grunted and did everything I could not to shoot off everything that was inside of me. Part of me wanted to turn Andrea around and plow into her so I could get a better look of Tim banging into Shelly and smacking her tits and cunt around, trying to make her scream and come louder and harder than she already was. Part of me wanted Andrea's mouth still clenched around my cock as I rocked myself as far as I could force it into her.

Andrea made that decision for me when she got up and straddled herself over my hips as I sat up with my hands propping me up from behind. With any other woman, I probably would have been more transfixed on watching Tim and Shelly go at it, but Andrea was amazing me in to many ways. Holding onto my shoulders, I could feel how she was determined to bury my cock as deeply into her as she could, which was more than fine. I couldn't get enough of her insides that were a constant source of hot, slippery wetness, but I wanted her deeper and I wanted her faster.

"You want that cock deep inside of you, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said. "And hard. The way only you know how."

I got up, carried her over to the stairway enclosure, and pinned her against the wall with her legs wrapped tight around me. As soon as my aching rod stabbed back inside of her, she started screaming and coming like she never had before. She kept me constantly slick and wet. There was no shutting her off. I didn't want to, but I felt like I was on overload.

Suddenly, I burst. I felt as if my cock was a cannon that went off and tore away at Andrea's insides. It sounded as if I had by the way she continuously cried, "Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!!!"

I didn't want to pull out, but I felt as if I couldn't stand, even if my life depended on it. We collapsed onto the surface of the roof trying to catch our breath and held onto each other as if we had saved ourselves from some kind of violent force. 

When the field of fury finally subsided, I finally realized that we were outside on a night that was as hot and thick as a the sweat and stickiness that we generated between us. I almost felt self-conscious about Tim and Shelly being close by, but when I looked around, they were nowhere to be seen.

Then there was that look that Andrea gave me that said she wanted me, but not in the way that was just about getting off for a good time. 

The only way I knew how to respond to that look was, "Where do we go from here?"

"We'll have to take things one day at a time," she said.



Better Ch. 12



Chapter 12 - Robert

That nervous feeling the first time introducing a new girlfriend to the family never seems to get any easier to deal with regardless of how old you are or how many times you’ve do it, and this was something I haven’t done since the first time I brought Brianne around. Even though this was just introducing Andrea to my brother Rick, his wife Julie and a few of our mutual friends, I still felt like grasshoppers were jumping all over the insides of my belly. Had it been all six of us kids, their kids and my parents, it would have been way too much. I was grateful he offered to pull off this party just to be my wing man to break her into the clan.

Rick was the only one of my siblings I ever talked to about Andrea. I was closest to Rick out of all of my siblings and he was also my business partner. It was him who kept asking me, “When are you going get real about this woman?” I never discussed how hot the sex was between us, but I told him how she was taking time out to work on me with my photography and he saw how much my work has improved over these past few months.

“You got talent, and of course I’m going to say that because I’m your brother, but I get the feeling she’s doing this because she sees something more in you than what you can do with a camera,” he said on more on one occasion. “And you light up when you talk about her.”

I guess I did, but this night it was more about her light reflecting on me. I never realized how much she can light up a room, or in this case, a back yard.

“Damn!” Rick said. “She’s a knockout, and she has personality, too! You’re normally not the slowest guy in the race, but what took you so long to get together with her?”

I had time to think about why it took me too long, almost too long. Part of it was getting over Brianne pulling the wool over my eyes. Part of it was old habits dying hard of chasing skirt – and cock.

For me, sex wasn’t an emotional thing; it was just a pastime, except with Brianne. I had no problem getting a piece of ass before and after her. If I kept my emotions out of it, I wouldn’t get hurt. But once I put my heart into a woman, I’m in it all the way – kindness, romance, and most of all, respect for the woman I’m with. Looking back to the first day I met Andrea, I wanted all of that, but I purposely put all of that out of my head because I was afraid of getting hurt. Ironically, I’m pretty sure that I wound up hurting her. In the end, I got lucky.

As for my time with men, it’s not about attraction, it’s about getting off. It’s not a gay thing or a bi thing. Most of the men I’ve been with are as straight as a Summer Solstice day in Fairbanks, Alaska, but the pickings are much easier at a gay bar. There’s none of the game playing that there is with women and there are no expectations. It’s just an over and done thing without the drama.

But how do I explain this to Andrea? Or don’t I?  For as open-minded as she was, chances are that she wouldn’t be so open to it in her life. Last night was one thing with the fondling, but until then even just playing with another couple was only something she said she would give some thought.

But tonight it was all about her. There wasn’t a man or woman who could distract me from Andrea. She was distracting enough. She was one of those rare women who could truly rock a pair of short shorts. The fit just covered her petite and slightly rounded ass to leave just enough to the imagination,  and when she stripped down to her bathing suit, I nearly lost it. Of the many times I’ve seen that seen that glorious, firm rack of hers, there was something about seeing them perfectly strapped and But covered in a bikini top that set me off to a point where I couldn’t wait. We had only been sitting at the edge of the pool for about 20 minutes talking and drinking beers when I announced, “Excuse me, but I have to show this young lady to the powder room.”

“I don’t have to go to the bathroom,” she said while we walked toward the house.

“I know, but if I don’t take you right now, I’m going to have a very embarrassing situation in front of all of everyone,” I said.

We raced to the house, through the back patio door, and headed straight to the half bath off the kitchen. I grabbed both breasts, slammed her against the wall, and started kissing her desperately. She managed to break away to say, “I can’t do this here. Not in your brother’s house. I just met them not even an hour ago.”

“And I’ve had a raging hardon for you since I left your house this morning,” I said, pressing my ever hardening cock against her so she’d get my message. “And I bet you’re wet for me, too.”

I slipped my finger through her bathing suit bottom I and could tell that she had just started responding. Her kisses left me with a feeling that spread through my body like wildfire yet she kept pushing me off.

“No, no … we really shouldn’t,” she said.

I rammed my finger straight into her cunt. She took it in tight and wet. Her breathing became even more rapid as I pulled the bottom of her bathing suit down.

“We’ll be quick, I promise,” I said under a heavy whisper. “I can’t hold back any longer.”

I threw her up on the countertop, kicked over the kid’s step stool so I could stand on it, dropped my trunks, and went at her and kissed her deeply. It was intensely deep fucking and foreplay all at the same time. Our tongues twisted around each other wildly as our orgasms built. I untied her top as quickly as I could so I could feel her breasts that she pressed hard against my bare chest. Her walls clenched my cock as hard as ever in a constant state of lubrication urging me to come. When I felt myself ready to blast, I grabbed her by her ass cheeks and pulled her in as hard as I could.  

I felt as if some kind of force blew me back to the wall after I came. 

“My legs feel like putty,” I told her as I barely propped myself up against the wall. 

Andrea leaned back, let out an enormous breath, and started laughing.

“We’ve done some crazy things, but this is certainly the craziest,” she said.

“Even crazier than last night on the roof?” I asked.

“Umm … that was pretty crazy, but there’s something even crazier about doing it on the sly with family nearby,” she said. “Now that’s pushing some limits for me!”

We both started laughing. We both wanted to laugh hard, but wanted to keep a low profile in case anyone was nearby, or worse, at the door waiting to use the john. The smile on the inside of me was bigger than my laugh when I realized that neither one of us was totally going to go soft on each other knowing this just wasn’t wild booty call sex.

We got cleaned up and dressed as quickly as we could and hoped no one had noticed we were gone for too long. I think Rick did as we walked through the kitchen.

“There you are, dude,” he said. “We’re ready to get the steaks on the grill. You know the deal; we buy ‘em, you grill ‘em.”

At family parties like this, it was my job to do the grilling because I didn’t have a date or spouse to entertain or kids to run after, and quite frankly, I was pretty damn good at it. Andrea jumped into the kitchen with the other women and seemed to make friends fast. It was a side of her I had never seen, being with other woman, and she seemed at ease and fit right in with the other women who tended to be a bit on the catty side, especially when it came to a new woman in the mix. Or maybe they were impressed with her ability to make the perfect mojito. 

My dad always said you can tell how a woman will treat you by the way she treats other people the. By way I saw her with the other women led me to believe I was in pretty good hands.

The steaks turned out fantastic as did the rice salad she brought – rice, green onions, wilted spinach, bacon and a dressing made of soy sauce. A real crowd-pleaser, perfect with the steaks. 

“You two make quite a team in the kitchen,” Julie said. “Do the two of you cook often?”

We had never cooked together before. Hell, the closest thing we even came to food was me bringing over a pizza to her place one time and the two of us stopping for sliders on the way back to my house another time, but Andrea piped in, “Oh, we cook pretty well together, alright.”

No one caught the double entendre. I wanted to bust out laughing, but I just smiled and raised my glass to the toast someone made to us in our honor. A soft, polite smile came upon Andrea’s face before she leaned over to me and whispered, “Maybe we should have Tim and Shelly come over for dinner one night?”

She made it nearly next to impossible to compose myself and a brand-new stiff one when she cast me a wink and a smile that lasted just a second too long.

“You’ve got to stop this, woman,” I whispered through my grin. “Not in front of family.”

She gave me a discreet slap on the ass. I deserved it. And I liked it.

One tradition we had when it was just “the kids” when we got together like this was to play guitar and sing around the campfire. We’d start out with a lot of goofy songs. “Be My Yoko Ono” was a trademark of me and Rick, and if we didn’t come up with it on our own, someone would demand it. This time was the best ever when Andrea chimed in with that horsey laugh that was so on pitch and so on-cue. That move more than won her over with the sibs and their wives who always made it their point to out-do each other in the humor department. This time, Andrea took the honors hands down.

Where I didn’t think that I could show my chops was when we’d wind down the evening and the men played love songs to their wives and girlfriends. It was apparent to most of the others that I was wild about Andrea and made a point of telling me, I deliberately held off until the very end to make my contribution. I had an idea in mind, but I was working up the nerve to play it.

When it was finally my turn, I strummed, stalled, and said: “I wanted to finish me the song started singing to you last night, but since you agreed to be my Yoko Ono, I think a John Lennon song would be more appropriate.”

I started in with the first verse of “The Ballad of John and Yoko,” which got everyone laughing. When I lit into the refrain, I changed the words to …

“Christ you know I’m not easy, 
You know what a jerk I can be.
The way I have blown it
You could’ve crucified me.”

I was true to form more than ever. Mr. Robbie “Always Good for a Laugh” had them doubling over, clutching their bellies, and nearly spitting their drinks into the fire even none of them, except for Rick and Andrea, knew the true meaning behind my improv. 

Andrea laughed the hardest, but she also deserved better, so I slowed down the tempo and “In My Life” just came to my fingers, onto the strings of my guitar, and out of my mouth.

After the last note faded from the guitar string, she gave me a sweet, soft and chaste kiss on my cheek that felt more powerful than any kiss we’ve ever shared. Normally, I would have stayed to help clean up, but I told Rick, “I have to get this young lady home.”

He gave me a fist pump and a hug and said to me, “Indeed you do, my brother. Indeed you do.”



Better Ch. 13



Chapter 13: Michael

I shouldn't have been surprised that the time I spent away from home with Andrea would eventually catch up with me. I just didn't expect it to happen late Saturday morning after breakfast and after the kids went off to spend the afternoon with their friends at the club.

"There's someone else, isn't there?" my wife, Kathy, asked.

I didn't know what to say, but the silence I let fill the void between us across the kitchen table shouted a resounding "Yes."

"How serious is it?" she asked.

I didn't know what to say. There was no denying it, but I couldn't lie and just say it was just a fling. Over the past few months, I knew in the back of my mind that I loved Andrea but I just couldn't get myself to admit it. I couldn't tell Kathy that. But I had to find out what she knew, whether it was just her woman's intuition or if she had hard proof, and deal with it from there. 

After sitting in silence and avoiding looking at each other, I asked her, "What do you want to do?"

"We could try couples counseling, which would mean you'd have to open up about what's going on and is something you obviously have no interest in doing," she said. 

Good. She was fishing. What I wanted to say was, "Geez, give me some time. You're only 10 minutes into your ambush." 

Instead, I said, "I'd really like to invoke the 24 hour rule and sort through what we need to say to each other."

"Fine," she said as she got up from her chair and walked out of the room. It wasn't like, "Fine, that sounds reasonable and fair." It sounded more like, "Fine. I've got you're your balls in my purse anyway."

I spent the better part of the afternoon holed up in my study assessing the pros and cons of really making my marriage work, or if I could find smarter ways of being with Andrea, or if I should leave her for a fresh start with Andrea. Yes, the kids were a factor -- a big factor -- but it wasn't as if they would be irreparably harmed by a divorce. Lots of kids my kids went to school with came from divorced families and were pretty unscathed by the experience, or so it seemed. I really didn't know. Would Kathy trash my reputation and standing with the kids or make it hard for me to spend time with them? I doubted that, but Jess was at an age, 13, when I've heard girls tend to strongly side with their mothers and rarely took to the "new woman." I could see her doing that and I wasn't sure of putting Andrea through that. Michael Jr. was 9 and close to his dad. I could see him getting a little weepy about dad not being there all the time.

But having Andrea made such a difference in my life and the man that I had become. Sure, the sex was a big part of it, but it was the everyday things that we shared that made the bond between us so warm, close and open. Both aspects were something Kathy and I didn't have. We didn't get excited about those little conquests we had during the day, and quite frankly, we never shared them and never inquired about them with each other. Kathy was there like a piece of furniture and I had to admit that I treated her that way ... as she did me. Our sex life hadn't changed much in the 18 years we were together -- once a week, starting off with cuddling after the kids were in bed and finishing in the missionary position. In other words, we did the "duty" almost as if it were a job. Sure, I tried to change things up -- usually with something that I had picked up with my time with Andrea -- but she was hardly a willing participant. Whenever I was able to slip a little something in, it just never felt right, at least not the way it felt with Andrea.

Was having a great sex life and always having that feeling of falling in love really that important? It was something I really hadn't missed or thought of all that time with Kathy before I met Andrea. With Kathy and the kids, I had happiness of different kinds -- family holidays and vacations, watching Michael Jr. play baseball, going to Jess' piano recitals and swim meets, and having Kathy on my arm at charity events. They all weren't all bad things. In fact, I was fortunate to have that life and be able to provide it for my family. But the same kinds of things I did for Kathy as I did for Andrea -- like surprising her with concert or show tickets, overnight and weekend getaways, or even just a day at the spa -- were expected, assumed and taken for granted. With Andrea, they were the kinds of things that put a gleam in her or made her want to have sex with me after a night on the town. Even a random phone call out of the blue was enough to put some happiness in Andrea's voice.

I drifted off to sleep in my desk chair and started dreaming about the time Andrea and I spent in Cabo. I felt as if we were actually back there again, watching her walk the beach with me just before the sunset. She wore a thin white cotton dress that showed off the silhouette of her body against the golden sun in the pre-dusk horizon. I was mesmerized by the stride of her gracefully shaped legs and her slender, rounded ass. I started thinking about what those legs could do -- point out, up and wide at 45-degree angles or wrap around my back when I deep-sticked her or fold themselves in between our chests as I completely plowed myself inside of her. I thought about when we first checked into the room and as soon as the bellhop left, she sat on the edge of the bed, lifted one leg almost straight in the air and bent the other one flat on the mattress, leaving that magnificently glistening pussy open and available to me. I felt as if I couldn't stop licking her lips and as deep inside as my tongue could reach. She kept coming and coming over and over again with seismic force. I wasn't sure if she was already primed or how much I had to do with making her gush almost the moment my cock made contact with her G-spot, but it was one of those moments I'll never forget and I'm sure few men ever had.

My cell phone rang and shattered the dream and memory I was having of Andrea. My hand kept subconsciously stroking my cock until I saw it was Kirsten, the creative director at our bank's agency. Out of decency, I slipped my cock back in my pants to take the call.

"I hate to call on the weekends, but I just got done taking a closer look at your friend's book and my budget," she said. "Is there any chance that she could do a Skype meeting early in the week?"

"I'm sure she'd be happy to," I said.

"By chance, do you know what she's making?" she asked.

I gave her a number of what I knew she typically pulled in on a daily rate. Kirsten said she could do better than that on a full-time basis, with benefits, stock options, and a cost of living adjustment. I told her that I'd get word to Andrea right away and have her follow through with the arrangements.

It wasn't until I got off the phone that I was fully awake and realized what I had gotten myself into. I owed Kathy a discussion about plans to rebuild and move forward with our marriage, but I couldn't deny Andrea an opportunity to move forward with her career or a chance to have her be more in my life.

My mind drifted back the time I had with Andrea in Cabo. This time, I thought about the way her past-the-shoulder brunette mane blew in the wind that came off the ocean that evening, the same locks of hair I ran through my fingers when I whisked her back to the room that evening, the way the strands fell over her face when she smiled and looked down over me and straight into my eyes. I thought about the way her hair looked almost more than I thought how she slid onto my cock and commandeered it slowly and luxuriously as if to make the pleasure last all night long. When I wanted even more of her, she understood my urgency by just one good, strong tug of a handful of that soft, beautiful and shiny hair.

I came just as hard with the pulse of my hand as I did with her that night six months ago. I knew I had to make this work.

"Call me ASAP. Urgent," I typed on the keypad of my phone. 



Better Ch. 14



Chapter 14 - Andrea

Having a glimpse of Robert and his life outside of what we had shared over these past few months made me find him all the more attractive. I got to see him as a good brother, a good brother, and a good friend among some of the people with whom he spent time and had a long history. I'm sure it was a big step for him to bring me around and make that introduction to everyone. I felt as if I fit right in. I also knew we had a long way to go to see if there was that "couple" side of us. For all the time I had known him before, I felt as if he were a brand-new lover who I really didn't know at all.

When I woke up, I looked at him splayed stomach-side down on my bed. As much as I wanted him again, I just couldn't bring myself to wake him. I could understand how he could be that tired. Our ride back from Rick's house was nothing but teasing touches and double entendres that escalated the closer we got back to my apartment. 

And speaking of escalated, well, maybe elevated, or more like elevator ...

Robert punched the button to the fourth floor, two above mine, stood right in front of me, and gave me that daring, mischievous grin that I knew meant that he wanted to do something wild.

"How do you stop this thing?" he asked.

He grabbed me close and bit on my neck.

"I don't know," I said and let out a gasp of air from the strange mix of pleasure and pain he inflicted with his teeth.

The door opened on the fourth floor. He pushed me against the side wall of the elevator, pinned my hands above my head, pulled the neckline of my T-shirt down to expose my breast, and bit into the soft, tender flesh.

By memory, I reached out for and hit the "Close Door" button. He swiftly slid one foot over to widen my stance and cupped a hand over my warm, brewing pussy. Between that move and his cock that he pressed against my leg, I felt as if I were percolating inside. Our hands were scavenging skin with mine under the hem of his shorts to grope the upper back side of his thigh and under his T-shirt to feel the heat from his chest. His hand darted through the bottom of my shirt and underneath my bra to claw my breast. He wasted no time unbuttoning my shorts and pulling down the zipper in a demanding manner in much the same way his hand and fingers grabbed for and stroked my slick outer lips between my legs. I dropped my shorts to the ground, tip-toed, and wrapped one leg around him with no care or concern of who might need the elevator at 2:30 in the morning. 

His hard, bare cock was soon sliding along my lips, daring to go inside of me and daring me to let him enter me. Our breathing, which had taken on a force like a wild wind storm, slowed down briefly for a moment as if to pause for permission. Do we continue this here or do we head straight for my apartment? As quickly as that very short but poignant pause lasted, I thrust my mouth onto his and kissed him as hungrily as I wanted him to fuck me. He lifted me up and plowed away inside of me with might. I tried to break free from the kiss to catch a breath but a loud and fierce groan came out. I was in a state of a tight and continued edge of climax that I wanted to let loose and hang onto all at the same time, but I couldn't and didn't want to lose the momentum that we built up – not until he was ready to come.

My body was no match for my will. Cum started dripping out of me. He slowed to watch the base of his cock coated with my cum slide in and out of me and the stream that was coming out of me. He smiled, looked at me, and said, "My god, you're amazing," as he wiped the cum onto of one of his fingers that he slipped into my mouth. 

I gave him a look that I hoped said, "Let's go at this again."

He took my cue or maybe it was his wish for a repeat performance, and that's what he got. We both stopped to watch the incredibleness of a slow-motion fuck. Even though he had the better vantage point of seeing his cock plunge inside of me, it was a hot, shared moment that could be repeated all night long except the third time he came. We were both drenched between our legs, on our legs, on our clothing, and on our bellies. 

He dropped me so that my feet hit the floor. I was wobbly, I could barely stand, and neither could he. We both clung to each other to keep each other propped up. It was a while until I was able to speak. I looked up to him, threw him a wicked grin, and said. "You make me do bad things."

We busted out laughing. He picked up my shorts, pulled them over my legs, and got me dressed but not as neatly as when we got into the elevator car. He pulled up his own shorts, hit the "2" button, and said, "One of these days, we're going to get caught."

"Let them be jealous," I said with a wink in my eye and in my voice as I sashayed out of the elevator onto my floor, knowing he was watching my swagger all the way to my door.

We broke out in laughter again as we heard the elevator ding down the hallway.

After replaying that entire scene in my mind, I noticed he still hadn't moved since I woke up. In fact, I don't think he moved since we both plopped on the bed about six hours earlier. Finally, his eyes appeared through tiny slits and a smile beamed on his face.

"I hope you never stop turning me on," he said as he reached out and rolled on top of and around the other side of me. 

This time, our hands smoothly caressed every curve, nook, cranny, and contour of our skin as if to commit them to memory. Our kisses were soft, our nibbles were delicate. I felt as if our bodies were in a boat rolling on soft waves that had a strong fullness behind them. 

Robert's cock also had fullness inside of it. I couldn't help but to be enamored with the way he guided my hand to touch and stroke it. Once I had the soft, slow rhythm down on my own, he reached between my legs. His exploratory gestures were delicate and appreciative like the way someone would stare at a piece of art to study and admire it. There was no rush to turn up the volume and play each other fast, hard and loud or to see how we could take each other to some new extreme edge. If "nice" had a specific and narrowly-defined definition, this would be it.

Robert ran a hand over the softness of my hair, looked into my eyes, and said, "Do you know during this whole time we've known each other that I've never taken you out on a real date?"

"Well, what about last night?" I asked.

"That's different," he said. "I would have been over there anyway, just like I'm usually out with family on the weekends."

"I had fun, and I'm glad that you invited me," I said, still stroking and touching him with my arms and legs and hands and feet entwined around him.

He smiled, kissed me on my forehead, and said, "How about a concert? I'd hate to have the summer go by and not see an outdoor show or two ... or six or seven with you."

He reached over for his phone on my nightstand and started looking up concert dates.

"Hmm ... let's see," he said as he scrolled on the screen with the pad of his index finger. "Yes and Procol Harem on Monday ..."

There was no response from either of us.

"Joe Cocker and Huey Lewis on Thursday ..." he read.

"Umm ... yes to Joe Cocker but no to Huey Lewis," I said.

"Kelly Clarkson on Friday ..." he said, followed by a resounding "No" by both of us.

"Ah ha!" he lit up. "I think I've got it! Barenaked Ladies, Blues Traveler, Big Head Todd and the Monsters, and Cracker on Saturday."

"All of them? Together? In one show?" I asked.

"Yes, indeed, my lady," he said.

He saw the smile on my face, and at the same time, we high-fived each other, and shouted, "Sweet!"

He reached onto the floor for his shorts and pulled out his credit card. There was something boyishly cute about seeing him sitting naked and cross-legged on my bed smiling like an idiot as he punched in the letters and numbers he needed to make the transaction.

"Done!" he said as if he had claimed a major conquest. "We've got seats on the lawn, the only way to see an outdoor show. We can sit on a blanket and drink really bad expensive box wine from the concession stand."

"And eat pre-wrapped sausages?" I asked, almost to beg for the bop on the head that he gave me with a pillow.

"Maybe if we're lucky, they'll have Dijon ketchup." He said with a smirk.

Then for the first time all weekend, I heard my phone ring.

"Shit!" I said. "I forgot, I'm supposed to have brunch with Greta. I better get that."

I picked up my phone and true to form, Greta said, "I hope you're not blowing me off again."

"Umm ... no, I'm not, but ..." I said. I wasn't quite sure how I was going to get out of this one. This was the third time in the past two weeks I've put off meeting with her.

Robert heard how the conversation was going and signaled that I should go.

"What time?" I asked.

"Now," she said, pointing out that it was 11 in the morning.

"Crap," I said. "Can you give me an hour?" 

"Sure," she said, "But you're paying. The crab Benedict looks real-ly good. And it looks like it goes better with Veuve Cliquot than that swill they put in the bottomless mimosas."

"OK, OK ... I get it, and you deserve it," I said. "See you as soon as I get there."

I hung up the phone, sighed, gave Robert an apologetic look, and said, "I'm sorry. She's already there and I can't blow her off again."

He was already getting dressed and had an understanding look on his face, "It's OK. As much as I'd like to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, I really have to go anyway. Payroll waits. Give me a call later this evening."

He gave me a kiss before he headed out the door. I should have been surprised that he asked me to call him later. This wasn't like him, but I was getting used to it.



Better Ch. 15



Chapter 15 - Andrea

Greta turned slack jaw the moment she saw me walking toward her on the patio. We normally got pretty fussed up when we met for Sunday brunch, but this time I was wearing a short emerald green off-the-shoulder dress that Michael had bought for me that I hadn't worn yet. That and a pair of matte gold strappy sandals that I hadn't worn yet either.

"Well shut the front, back and side door!" Greta practically shouted. "Look at you! All sexed up just to have brunch with me?"

Greta was a lot like me except in a center-of-attention, wild-ass life-of-the-party sort of way. She swung all ways – straight guys, bi guys, women. Hell, she could even bring a gay man to his knees, or at least make him treat her like the bitch goddess that she was. She was also extremely creative and much more successful than me – a gifted muralist whose work could be seen in at least a half dozen buildings in the area and even more in New York City, Dallas, Miami, Auckland, and LA. Her mom was a pretty prolific painter back in the '70's and her dad was a Woodstock-era drummer who played with everyone from Jimi Hendrix to B.B. King back in the day. That opened a lot of doors for her, too. Ever since our first day in art school, she was also the only person I could really talk to about my personal life in detail and without fear of judgment.

"Well, this isn't your typical Macy's 70 percent off, end-of-the-season get-up," she remarked. "And those shoes? Kate Spade?"

Greta had an eye for these things and thought nothing of socking away a grand just to buy a pair of Christian Loubotins. 

"The same," I said, letting my ankle dangle my shoe into the narrow aisle between the tables.

"Holy shit!" she said. "What did you do to get those? Fuck the guy who runs the shoe department at Neiman Marcus?"

"No, but there was a whole lot of fucking around when I was trying on dresses," I said. "And Michael thought I needed some shoes to go with them."

"Them? As in more than one dress? More than one pair of shoes?' she asked in total disbelief. I knew she would press me for details for hours if she could.

"Mmm-hmm," I replied with a sly smile.

"How many?" she asked.

"Shoes or dresses?" I asked, toying with her on purpose.

"Both, of course, dammit!" she replied.

I held up eight fingers for the dresses and five for the shoes. Greta nearly fell off her chair.

"So what kinds of kinky hijinks did you get into to land this loot?" she asked.

"Well, since all I had worn to pick him up at the airport was a trench coat and my fake Loubotins and a backup dress I left in the back seat, he figured I'd need something to wear to go out to see Madeleine Peyroux in a private box at the Fox ... and a little side trip to Chicago," I said matter-of-factly, just for effect.

"No fucking way!" she exclaimed as she poured another glass of bubbly. "But you did say something about fucking in the dressing room."

Of course I had to dish all the juicy details about how he first came in the fitting room just to slide his finger into my panties, and then how he pinned me up against the wall to feel me up my dress, and then how I willing bent over the chair for him to take me from behind.

"Oh, tell me that really didn't happen!" she gasped.

"Oh, it did," I said as a nodded in a mock smug way. "And our initiation to the Mile High Club. In a private jet. And not in the bathroom."

Greta's mouth locked wide open. Nothing came out until she said, "Now you're lying!"

"Not at all," I said. "After all these years, have I ever lied to you?"

"Now I can understand why you'd go catting around with a married man," she said.

"You know it's more than that," I said. "There's something about being with him that's so much fun. So uplifting. He's been my best friend ... my best male friend, that is. He's really going full court press to get me to move out to San Francisco. I was really thinking about doing it. Until now, he's the only man who has treated me as if I'm the woman of all women."

She looked at me quizzically and asked, "San Francisco? Really? That would be awesome! There's so much to do and see in the art world. You could really rack up some great work out that way and get to see more of your man. But what did you mean when you said, 'Until now?'"

"Well, there's Robert," I said.

"Robert?" she exclaimed. "Honey, you and I both know that he's just a booty call. I keep telling you to not get your heart so deep into him. Just enjoy him for the sexy fuck that he is."

"But what if his heart is into me?" I asked.

"I don't believe it," she said. "He'd be a love 'em and leave 'em type except that he's getting free private photography lessons from you. I keep telling you, if he really wants to get serious about his work, which I really don't see him doing, then he needs to take and pay for some classes at College for Creative Studies. Besides, I've seen how heartsick you get when you don't see or hear from him for a week or two. He's just an opportunistic douchebag."

A week ago or three days ago, I would have agreed with her and took her advice to help me get over him. Then I told her about Friday night and how he showed up at my door singing "A Case of You" and how he nearly forgot to bring in the case of wine that he left in the hallway.

"Robert?" she asked. "Really? Are you sure that wasn't his angelic twin brother?"

"Yep," I said. "And I got to meet one of his brothers and a couple of their friends last night."

"Woah," she said as she took a gulp of her drink. "Meeting the family. That's big. Huge. But, you know, men never really change. He's bound to do something stupid and fuck it all up ... a month from now, a year from now ... or he'll go all soft on you and stop fucking you like the tramp whore you so like to be when you're with him."

I started smirking, and then started laughing way too loud. I told her she was right about the soft part, especially this morning when all we did was touch and never fucked and how it was just as intense as the crazy stuff we did ... the orgy on the roof with my neighbor and his girlfriend, sneaking away for a quickie in his brother's bathroom, and nearly shaking down the elevator last night. 

"Wait! You got it on with a chick you just met but never with me?" she practically shouted, partially in jealously and partially with pride. 

We got a couple of stares from people sitting within a table or two or four from us. I motioned her to shush.

"It was all ... umm ... in the moment ... just like it with the woman I danced with at this blues bar on Rush Street, but it just turned out to be just a ruse for her to try to pickpocket Michael's cell phone and wallet," I said very quietly.

Greta's eyes practically popped out of her head. I told her how sexy it felt to grind bodies on the dance floor with an extremely attractive woman in front of Michael and everyone else in the bar. I told her how I could see how men could get excited about having more tits than they could reasonably handle in their hands even though I much preferred the much more manageable size and softer feel of what I had naturally. 

"Besides," I continued, "getting it on with you would be like getting it on with my sister. It would just be wrong. And aren't you the one who always 'Why let sex get in the way of a good friendship?'"

"Touché!" she said as she raised what little bit that was left of the champagne in her glass for a toast, "You're right. Besides, it wouldn't be as much fun to go out for girl talk with you when I'd already know what you would be talking about how fantastic I am."

I realized that we had spent the past three hours drinking, eating, talking about the tawdry details of my sex life, and had never gotten around to talking about what she had been up to these past few weeks.

"That's what Sunday brunches are for," she said. "Same time next week? And bring Robert so I can check him out for myself."

"Is that your way of not divulging what you've been up to?" I asked.

"Honey, there hasn't been much to talk about, but maybe we can go out to my new favorite club on Saturday night?" she said.

I heard about this place. It had been open only two months and it already had the reputation for the wildest hook-ups in town.

"Got plans. Concert tickets," I said.

She gave me a look like a jilted BFF who was being replaced by a guy.

"Make it noon instead of 11?" I asked.

"Of course," she said as she gave me a big hug on our way out of the restaurant. "Who am I to get in the way of Sunday morning sex or recovery from the night before?"

I finally got around to checking my messages and email when I got home and discovered a pile of texts from Michael. There were links to Jane Monheit songs, his latest torchy flame ... the musical kind, not me. There were links to some really cool but incredibly small and expensive apartments. 

Then there was a text that said: "Call me ASAP. Urgent."

I knew I had a bad habit of not being attached to my smart phone like most people, but the "Call me" text was left about 24 hours ago. Urgent? What could it be? I hoped something wasn't wrong. It wasn't like him to be alarmist, but it was the last text he sent me.

I clicked his name on my speed dial and just got his voice mail. I sent a text message and didn't hear back. I was worried. I had a feeling that something wasn't right. I felt guilty for not getting back with him. I felt guilty for not checking up on messages because I was tied up with Robert. Besides, Michael was married and he knew he was still having sex with his wife. So why was I having this crisis of conscience?



Better Ch. 16



Chapter 16 - Michael

I thought I would have been better prepared having given myself 24 hours to have "the talk" with Kathy, but the truth was, I was more concerned that I hadn't heard from Andrea. It wasn't like her to not get back to me promptly or at least as soon as she could. If she was out all day for work or went out for the evening, I understood, but it had been almost 24 hours since I sent her the "urgent" text message, and the worst of my imagination was getting the best of me. If she was seriously sick or injured and I didn't know about it, then it was all the more reason I needed to move here. 

That thought made me admit that I had fallen in love with Andrea more deeply than I thought, and here it was time for me to make things right by Kathy and our marriage. 

I had barely seen Kathy at all since asked if there was someone else in my life at the kitchen table yesterday morning. I had spent most of the day of the day and slept the night in my study. She arranged for the kids to spend the weekend with their friends. I think she went out to dinner with friends last night. I really didn't know. It's easy to get lost in a big house.

For the time being, I knew I had to put my concern about Andrea aside and focus on patching things up with Kathy first. I thought I knew what to say to win her and her confidence back in a way that I didn't have to talk about Andrea or admit anything about Andrea. 

"Kathy, my dear," I said with my hands stretched over the table as if I wanted to touch her from the other side. "When two people fall in love, it's the little things that bring them together -- a smile when they see each other, sharing in the victory of even the smallest of conquests, finding joy in the simplest things or in ways we never expected. We do things, we have things, and go places that most people only dream of, but that's gotten to be routine, ordinary and expected in our lives. We need to go back to that place before we had all that, before we had kids, before we got married, and before I even kissed you for the first time. You're a good woman, a beautiful woman, but we both need to stop treating each other like pieces of furniture."

She crossed her arms, glared at me, and said, "You're admitting that you are seeing someone and you're putting the blame on me by saying that I treat you like a piece of furniture?"

She had every right to be pissed. This wasn't going to be easy.

"I'm pleading nolo contendere," I said. "You don't need to know who she is or any of the details. It would be pointless and hurtful. What I'm saying is that I ... we ... need to make a fresh start in order to make things work and make things happy and better between us ... for both of us. Is that what you want?"

She didn't say a word, her glare never wavered, and she never uncrossed her arms until she went to the counter and picked up a thick manila envelope. The first things she tossed out on the table were copies of photographs of Andrea and I kissing next to her car at the airport, checking into the Townsend, walking into and out of the dress shop, feeding each other sips of champagne at the bar of the lobby of the hotel, walking into the theatre, and in the parking lot of the airport on our way to Chicago.

She sat while I looked at the photographs and then finally said, "Are you saying that nolo contendere means that you admit you're wrong but you aren't willing to say you're sorry?"

She didn't look hurt; she looked pissed, enraged, and rightfully so. I had to admit that it was smart of her to be sly to bring this information up in the way she did. 

"My surveillance lost track of you at the airport, but I do have this ..." she said as she read off a list of credit card transactions from my personal credit card that until then I didn't think she knew I had.

"Five thousand, two hundred and ninety-two dollars at Ariada Boutique," she said, "Five hundred, twenty-one dollars at Bra-vo Intimates. One hundred forty-five dollars at Antonino Salon and Spa. One hundred twelve dollars at the Rugby Grille. One hundred sixty dollars for Metro Car. And that was just the first day of your latest escapade ...

"Hmm ... at least you managed to get cheap seats for a Cubs game. Went out for pizza, hit a couple of bars. You must have had quite a room at The Drake. And a purchase from noirleather.com? 

"Let's see, over the past year, you've been to Detroit three other times and Napa, Cabo San Lucas and the Bahamas. And you actually bought her something from that lingerie shop we went to when we went to Paris for our anniversary?"

Her eyes turned red. Deep furrows chiseled into her forehead. She got up out of her chair, leaned over the table toward me and screamed, "You thought knowing the details would be pointless and hurtful?" 

"I don't know what to say right now," I said. 

"Obviously, you have a whole lot more to say than we need to get back to that place to before you kissed me for the first time," she screamed

"Look, we both know me saying 'I'm sorry' doesn't even begin to cut it ..." I started to say.

"You're sorry you got caught, and I bet you're even more sorry that you got caught this way," she interrupted.

"Kathy, you're right," I said. "On both counts. And I do apologize. You didn't deserve this. You've never done anything to deserve to have been betrayed in this way."

I got out my phone, pulled out the guilty credit card, and called the bank. I pressed the number for customer service.

"I'd like to pay off and cancel my account," I told the operator. 

I gave the woman on the other end of the line the usual information -- account numbers, the expiration date, the security number on my card, and the last four digits of my Social Security number. She asked if I was sure I wanted to close the account. Absolutely. When I was done with the call, I walked over to the utility drawer, pulled out a pair of scissors, and cut the card in front of her.

Her body collapsed onto the table. The loud depth of her sobs filled the room. The only thing I could think of doing was to pick her up, hold her, and try to ease the shuddering and tension I felt in her body with the softest of touches. She started thrashing and punching me as soon as I touched her. I tried to restrain her arms and legs by holding them down in order to comfort her. I rocked her back and forth to calm her body and breathing. I only hoped that over her sobs that she heard me say, "Darling, I'm so sorry. Please let me find every way to make this up to you and make things better than they ever were before."

I must have held her and rocked her for an hour until she became completely still and fell asleep in my lap. I carried her into the great room and held her on the couch until she woke up a couple of hours later. As soon as she opened her eyes, I kissed her softly on her forehead and ran my fingers through her soft blonde hair. My eyes started welling up as I looked into her eyes.

"I love you more than you can know or feel right now," I said. 

She still looked exhausted and weary, but beautiful in a vulnerable way.

"Did you mean what you said by finding every way to make up this up to me?" she asked. "To make things better?"

I brought her face up to mine, looked her in the eye, and said as convincingly as I could, "Yes. Absolutely yes."

I pressed my lips against hers tentatively, and then softly when I felt that she would allow me to kiss her. The same soft buzz I felt between our lips began to travel from my toes and through my fingers, and then up through my legs and up my arms. She let the tip of my tongue come through her lips to let me flick the tip of her tongue. 

I slipped a shoe off one of her feet and slowly dragged a finger over the top of it and over her the back side of her calf to just behind her knee. I broke my kiss and asked her in a whisper, "Do you feel a buzz, a tingle running up your leg?" 

"Uh ... huh," she whispered back, and sought another kiss from me.

I stretched out her arm and practically levitated it with two of my fingers that ran on the soft, thin underside of her arm from her wrist to her underarm. 

"Isn't that the most incredible feeling in the world?" I asked.

She dropped her head back and sighed, "Oh, yes." 

I laid her out across my lap, rested her head on a pillow, and told her to close her eyes. I took one finger and ran it under one limb at a time, around her hips, over her belly and sternum, up her neck, over her chin and up to her lips. I wanted her to lick my fingertip, but she wouldn't take it. I didn't want to push her. But I did notice that her hand was hovering over her T-shirt that covered her belly. It was the first time in all these years I had ever seen her touch herself like that. I lifted her shirt up just a bit so she could feel her own skin.

I leaned over to nibble on and whisper in her ear, "Now you know what I feel when I touch you like that."

"Mmm-hmm ..." she moaned. 

I barely placed one of my hands over hers as she skimmed over the soft, fair skin of her belly. I wanted so badly for her to move farther up to her breast, but I wasn't going to push it.

"I wish I could clone myself right now, but I have to take care of some things," I said. "Will you promise to stay here like this until I come back?"

"Mmm-hmm ..." she purred.

I ran down the chiller and pulled out a bottle of Domaine Caneros that we picked up from the Valley, grabbed two glasses, and brought them up to our bathroom. I found whatever candles I could find and lit them even though it was the middle of the afternoon. I pulled my iPod speakers out of my office, picked up a favorite book, and lined up some of her favorite jazz crooners -- Astrud Gilberto, Nat King Cole, Dusty Springfield, Diana Krall -- and got the Jacuzzi filled.

Kathy was half asleep by the time I came to pick her up and carry her to our room. Her sleepy eyes popped open when I walked her into the bathroom.

"For you, my dear," I said as I lifted her shirt up over her head from behind her. "I can't undo the past, but I can spend the rest of my life making up for everything I've done wrong by making things right for you."

I slipped off the rest of her clothing, helped her step into the tub, and poured her a glass of wine.

"I'll join you only if you want me to," I said as I kissed her hand. "I want the rest of the day to be all about you." 

She grabbed my hand with the one I kissed, ran her fingertips down the underside of my arm and across my chest to unfasten the buttons of my golf shirt, and circled her fingertips on the exposed skin of my chest. I really didn't know which way this could go.

"Do you remember how you seduced me to make love to you for the very first time?" she asked.

Twenty years ago. I was working on my MBA at Wharton. She was in her first year at Penn Law and rented a Victorian house off campus that had a claw-foot tub. I had always mentioned that I wanted to recite Shakespeare's love sonnets to her in that tub, but at least one of her three roommates were always around. I gave each of them $25 to go out for the night. I came over after the last one left the house. When she opened the door, I stood there with a dog-eared copy of Willie's best love poetry in one hand and a bottle of Korbel and a sack of strawberries in the other. We never made it to the tub, but we spent hours making love -- three different times -- and drank the wine from the bottle, ate the strawberries out of the bag, and read her poetry in the times in between.

I reached under the towels I placed on the sink countertop, pulled out that very same book, and said, "Does this look familiar?"

She got up out the tub and pulled off my shirt, dropped my pants to the floor, and walked me back onto our bed. The water from her wet flesh warmed and dissipated almost instantly on my burning hot flesh. I wanted to touch and feel her body all over like the way I did the very first time, but instead, she straddled me over my mouth and planted her hot, wet pussy on top of it.

"You did say this would be all about me today, didn't you?" she said.

This wasn't like her, at least not the old her. 

I thrust my tongue deep inside of her and massaged her inner walls all the way around. She was getting wetter inside, but she wasn't quite there yet. I pulled her hands onto the headboard and pressed her ass back and forth until she got the point that riding my mouth was a good thing. As she picked up speed, I started to circle the pad of my forefinger around her clitoris softly and slowly at first, then harder and faster until I started to hear her moan. I gave her a sharp smack on the ass that let out a scream that I knew didn't exactly come from the surprise and the sting. I gave her another quick slap on the other cheek to let her know that she hadn't come as hard as she had thought.

"More, Michael! More!" she cried.

Smack! Smack! Both times harder than the first two. A torrent of her sweet, juicy cum drizzled down my throat and covered my face. Her stance remained suspended and intact and she sustained her cry until her body gave out and collapsed by my side.

I lay on my side and watched her until she recovered. When she became aware that I was watching her, she was startled to see me smiling.

"It's because you're beautiful," I said. "What you did was beautiful."

She pulled the sheet over her body almost to the point of covering her face.

I pulled the sheet away from her face, and said, "Honey, really. It's OK to let yourself go. I probably enjoyed you more than you enjoyed yourself."

She sat up, shook her head, and said, "Wow! I have never felt like that before. It was as if I was out of control."

I took her arms behind her back, held her hands onto the mattress, and said, "Who says you have to be in control?" before I got up to get my book and the bottle of wine.

I leaned down next to her and started to open a page. Kathy picked it up and flung it across the room. 

I went into shock. I didn't know what to expect next.There was this weird calmness about her. I had a gut feeling that she was going to do something crazy like cut off my dick or go postal on me. She turned around and opened up the nightstand drawer. Was she going to pull a gun on me?

Instead, she pulled out a copy of "Fifty Shades of Grey."

"Tonight, my dear, we're starting over with a new book," she said with a wink.



Better Ch. 17



Chapter 17 - Andrea

Greta made a surprise visit late in the day on Monday. 

"What brings you here?" I asked.

"I want to see what a month's worth of your salary puts in your closet," she said as she walked in with a bottle of prosecco and carry-outs from her favorite crepe place, dropped them on my dining room table, and headed straight to my room.

"Go ahead and look," I said. "You know where I keep everything. I just have to finish these proofs for a client."

I could tell every time Greta pulled out a different dress. She oh-my-God-ed so many times that I thought she was going to come. She ran out each time with a different dress and asked me the story behind it. "What was he doing to you in the fitting room when you tried this on?" "Where did he take you out in this dress?" "Did he fuck you before, during or after you went out in this dress?"

"Haven't I already told you enough?" I asked.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I'm going through a dry spell. I need to live vicariously through you."

"OK, if I pull out the best outfit, will you promise not to hit me up for any more details? I asked.

"Depends," she said. "I can't guarantee anything."

I pulled the black corset out of my lingerie drawer.

"This, was the hottest time ever," I said.

I reached up onto a shelf in my closet and pulled down the box that I sent the cuffs back home in, ripped it open and said, "And these were the accessories."

Greta's eyes bulged. Her mouth gaped open. She picked up one of the cuffs, caressed the leather straps, and purred.

"This is some major top-notch gear," she said. "If you weren't just my best friend, I'd want you to put these on me right now."

"You know I don't top," I said.

"But you know I switch," she said in a much lower voice as she wrapped a cuff around my wrist.

The touch of that leather brought me back to that place where Michael took me that night at The Drake. I closed my eyes, sighed, and wanted to be in that space all over again. But could I do it with my best gal pal? The one I only smooched on the lips for the sake of winding up whatever horny guy was around us. On purpose. For kicks. Only.

I could feel Greta's eyes stare right through my eyelids. I opened my eyes to find hers much closer than I thought. From her seven-inch advantage she was staring down at me, almost nose-to-nose.

"You want to go there, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Good girl," she said. "Now go put that corset on with a nice pair of panties and some stockings. Wear your spikiest black heels and come get me when you're properly dressed."

"I will," I said.

"Good," she said. "Where are your toys?"

"Under the bed and in my nightstand," I said.

"Get them out and have them ready for me," she said as she walked out of the door and closed it behind her.

I couldn't wait to get dressed. I knew she was my best friend. The one I trusted all of my secrets with. For some reason, whether it was the way this all played out or if it was because I trusted her implicitly, I knew this was going to be hot.

I came out and was dressed exactly the way I was for Michael because I knew she'd want to hear the story. Even though I didn't have bedposts at the foot of my bed, I had no doubt that she'd figure something else out.

She got up off the stool at my breakfast bar. She was dressed in a black floral print bra, black lace panties, and she kept her stiletto mules on. It seemed as if she glided over to me in slow motion. She stood a half and arm's length from me and ran a hand up along the front of my thigh and up to my belly. I could tell she was watching and gauging my expression to see if I was OK with everything going on between us. 

It was OK. Better than OK. She seemed to know what I was thinking, gave me a sly, closed mouth smile, and slid her hand onto my breast and clenched it tight. I could feel my nipple protrude and harden instantly. It was hard. Very hard. It almost hurt. I was sure she could feel it from under the lace of the corset.

She pulled the lace out as far as she could to see what was going on.

"You do like this," she said. "Let's try the other."

She slid her hand up my belly again and grabbed my other breast even harder. This time she squeezed it over and over again so she could feel my nipple rub up against the palm of her hand. She came closer to me, planted her tongue inside my mouth and stirred it wildly against mine. 

I could barely stand. I was trembling all over. Even when I grasped my arms as tight as I could around her, I couldn't stop shaking wildly until she stopped, pulled away, and asked. "Do you have nipple clamps?"

"Yes, I do," I said.

She took me by my hand and walked me to my room. I went over to my nightstand to hand her the black jeweled clamps. 

"I knew I could count on you to be fashionable, even when you scene," she said as she unhooked the first few clamps on the front of my corset until my breasts fell out. 

She took one of my nipples and squeezed and tweaked it firmly. The feeling was like a sharp twinge that went through my breast and into past the very core. The hurt mingled with the more mellow temblors that were starting to make me shake all over again.  

"These are so nice. Rock hard. You are all nipple, girl," she said just before she slipped the clip on.

For a brief moment, the sharp, burning pinch from the clamp on my hard and tightened nipple eclipsed the other sensations blurring inside of me. She then place her hand on my breast and gave it a soft, soothing squeeze until my hard breaths slowed into short, clipped gasps that tried to fend off the tightness of the clamp.

"You do know that there's going to be another one?" she said as she dangled the clamp in front of my face and flicked my other nipple hard with her long, hard porcelain nails.

I did my best to anticipate the next biting sting, and then the front door buzzer rang. It startled both of us. She took her hand to caress my breast until I settled down even though I knew the other clamp would eventually bite into the sharp ache of my fully hardened nipple.

The buzzer rang again. 

"Shit!" she said, sounding annoyed and exacerbated. 

I didn't say anything. I was sure whoever it was would go away.

"Shh ..." she said with her finger up to her lips. "We'll get you there."

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and let her thumb circle my breast around my areola. It wasn't long until she had me completely calm except for my other nipple that raged with pain -- the only part of my body that hurt like hell while the rest of my body and mind felt suspended.

My cell phone went off. It was Robert's ring tone. This time I couldn't ignore it.

"It's Robert," I cried. "He must be at the front door. If he saw my car, he knows I'm home."

"Shit!" she said. "Get the phone. I'll get dressed, and give him a cover story so you can change and straighten things up. I'll get the door and say you got splashed with some water and had to change your clothes."



Better Ch. 18



Chapter 18 - Robert

I normally wouldn't have popped in like this, but I was on a job site all day near Flint and on my way home these two kids were selling bouquets on the side of the road. Actually, they picked whatever wildflowers were growing on the side of the road. They had them tied in the same kinds of curly-cue ribbons that are used to tie onto helium balloons. They were selling them for two bucks a piece. I gave them a twenty and they screamed and jumped up and down. They were so cute. I imagined that Andrea would be just as excited.

I got the door with the flowers behind my back and didn't expect to see ...

"Gabby?" I whispered.

She looked as shocked as I but quickly composed herself.

"Greta," she said as he extended her hand to shake mine. "Good to finally meet you!"

This was awkward. Very awkward. 

"Good to meet you, too," I said, doing my best to sound as if I was meeting her for the first time. 

I followed her over to the kitchen table where she started unpacking some carry-out bags.

"We were just about to have some dinner, but luckily I brought enough dessert to tide me over for a meal if you'd rather have wild mushroom crepes," she said. "I think I'm going to have to nuke these. We got sidetracked while I was raiding her closet."

Then she whispered, "We act like this never happened, right?"

"Of course," I whispered back.

"Does she know that you like ..." she started to ask.

"No, and please don't say anything," I said.

We both knew exactly what we were talking about. 

A few months ago, a guy I hooked up with occasionally, Mike, told me about this hot Domme, Gabby, who was really good at directing men. He told me she really knew how to set up a scene and knew how to keep a hardon going for hours. She never touched us, but with both of us being mostly straight, she knew how to tease and put on a show to get our dicks so hard and hurtful that they felt like they were going to shatter and break. 

Even though she was wearing this loose floral top and a pair of capri pants and spiked heels, they didn't do justice to her mile-high legs. They looked so much better in the cut out leather one-piece getup that that she wore when she met with us. It was cut high up her legs and the leather couldn't have been more tightly wrapped around her crotch.

We were in an old warehouse that had been converted into mostly artists' studios. Her space was big and open and had these huge windows that overlooked an area that was filled with decayed remnants of old paint factories, machine shops, and other assorted factories. It was early morning when we came in. She was pulling these room darkening shades over the windows and turned on some dim lights in the part of the space that she used as her studio. With a riding crop, she directed us over to an open space in the room. 

"You," she said, pointing the crop at me. "This is your first time with a Domme?"

"Yes," I said. 

"That's 'Yes, ma'am,'" she barked at me.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. 

She had both of us standing in front of her with our hands clasped behind our backs. She asked me what my level of experience was as a bottom.

"None, ma'am," I said. "I prefer to top women."

"Do you really?" she said. "He has such a nice schlong. Mikey, drop your drawers and show him what you have."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and obediently dropped his pants to the ground as quickly as he could.

He did have a nice stick. Rugged. Long. Wide. Wider than mine, but I had almost a good eight inches that could stay hard for hours that no one ever complained about."

"Step out," she said. "Shoes, socks off."

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

He kicked off his shoes and socks, put his hands back behind his back, and stared straight ahead at me. She looked right at me, and glared as if I was doing something wrong. 

"Stop staring at my pussy," she said. 

I didn't realize I was doing it even thought I was mesmerized with it, even more so than those two perfect round mounds of her ass that weren't covered at all. Even more than her full tits and nipples that were straining through the leather of her outfit. 

"Sorry, ma'am," I said. 

"That's 'I'm sorry, ma'am,'" she said. "You're a grown man. I shouldn't have to train you how to speak in a complete three-word sentence."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I said. 

She got right into my face, ran the stiff leather end of the crop up my neck to the point of my chin, and said, "Do you know what I do with bad boys who leer at me?"

"No, ma'am, I don't," I said.

I was really shaking.

"Drop your drawers," she said. 

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

I was never so turned on and so freaking scared of a woman in my life. I normally would have told a woman who talked to me like than to piss off, but instead, I dropped them in a hurry.

"Spread your feet shoulder width apart," she said. "Bend down and hold onto your ankles ... tight, I don't want you falling over. Mikey, get me my flat wood paddle," she said. 

When I could no longer hear the "pat, pat, pat" of Mike's footsteps, she pressed her blazing hot pussy against one of my ass cheeks, and said very softly, "You're making me so damn wet I can hardly stand it."

"I'm glad I can do that, ma'am," I said. 

She backed away as soon as I heard Mike's footsteps walk toward us. 

"Thank you, my sweet," she said.

"You're very welcome, ma'am," he said.

She didn't waste any time swinging that paddle hard on one ass cheek and then the other. I nearly landed head first onto the floor, but my instincts took hold to brace myself after the first swat. Then she told me to count 3-10. Each swat was harder than the last. When she was done, she rubbed the paddle on my burning ass until the raging pain faded.

"I take it that you won't do that again," she said.

"No, it won't happen again, ma'am," I said, but knew I'd have to find more clever ways of diverting my wickedly evil glances. 

"Good, now stand up straight, take off your shirt, and put your hands behind your back," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," I said. 

A slow, warm burn started to return to my stinging ass, but I swore that pussy nudge made me harder than ever.

She walked around me, rubbed her hand on the spots that stung, and said, "Mikey told me that you like to take it in the ass," she said. 

"Yes, I do, ma'am," I said.

'"You have to earn that privilege when you're with me," she said. 

"What would you like me to do, ma'am?" I asked, trying to make eye contact with her to see if I could break her down.

I could tell it was working by the way she took that little gasp of air in order to regain her sense of composure. She had this look in her eyes that seemed to say, "You're making me cream the crotch of this expensive leather suit."

"I want you to go into my storage room and bring me the four strands of rope on the far left side of the board and bring them to me," she said. "And bring me the brown swede flogger and the two cock rings that are on the workbench."

"Yes, ma'am," she said.

She told Mike to get two chairs and where to put them.

We both returned with the items she asked us to get. She turned to Mike, sashayed over to him to be exact, and turned on this very wicked and seductive smile. The tone of her voice changed from being abrasive and brusque to teasing in a seductive way as she said, "Mikey, you've been such a good boy the last few times you've been with me. I'm going to reward you today."

"Thank you, ma'am!" he said.

His face lit up like a second-grader who pleased the teacher with good behavior or an "A" paper. I wanted to laugh, I almost snickered, but I well enough to know how to play the game.

As she tied his hands to the back side of the chair and around his ankles to the outside front legs of the chair, she told him, "Robbie's going to suck your dick, and he's going to suck it good, but I don't want you to come until I decide you're ready to fuck him in the ass. Would you like that, Mikey?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" he said. 

When she had him in place, she clamped the rings around this cock and his balls and flicked his balls with the flat end of the crop a few times. Then she took me by the arm and had me stand about 10 feet in front of him.

"Robbie, I want you to get on your hands and knees and crawl to Mikey," she said and she fastened a cock and ball strap around me. 

I got this look on my face that wanted to say, "Me? Crawl? For you? To a dude?"

She crossed her arms, scowled, and said, "Don't make me use my paddle again, and don't make me use it in a way you won't like."

She came up closer to me, and under her breath, she said, "I can't wait to see your fine ass in motion."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. 

I followed her slow stride across the room, keeping a peripheral look at the slope of her feet in those shoes and the curves of her heel, ankle and the back of her calves as she glided alongside me. The tip of the crop slid and circled across my ass and on the back of my legs. Whenever she took a quick flick at it against my burning skin, I'd halt, but she was in no mood for me stop for my reflexive reaction. Then again, I always expected the same when it was my hand on the handle and the tip was on a woman's ass.

"Now, Robbie, I want you to suck Mikey's dick exactly the way you would expect your dick to be sucked," she said. "There will be no pussy footing around."

I didn't get the chance to say, "Yes, ma'am." She grabbed me by my hair and shoved my mouth hard and deep onto his cock. He started moaning instantly. I normally didn't enjoy cock sucking; I preferred it done to me, but I figured if I was going to get what I wanted, I had better perform.

I thought of Andrea just after we had sex for the first time. She toyed with me about wanting to give me the best blow job of my life. I told her that I had heard that promise so many times before, but by God, she delivered. She was totally into the rhythm of it and what it took to get me wound up. She seemed to sense every time I wanted in played with, sucked on hard, and as deep she could get it inside of her mouth. I tried to do for Mike what she did for me -- licking around and around, stroking the base of his cock while I sucked hard when I came up on him, and then diving down as deep as I could take him in. Only a few times I slowed down to get my energy back, but a couple of whacks with the flogger on the back of my legs was motivation enough for me to get back in the game -- not just to get Mike off, who had this way of stretching and stiffening his body when it felt really good, but to please Mistress Gabby.

She seemed to be enjoying the show, looking on at my skill and how long I was able to keep Mike so close to the edge. It was amazing how much I learned from Andrea. Thank goodness it was the best blow job of my life.

Mike started to let out these short-breathed pants and Mistress Gabby started taking the ropes off his wrists and then his ankles.

"Robbie, stay on all fours," she said. "Mikey, you get behind him and fuck him like a dog."

She threw a bottle of lube to him and he greased up faster than a mechanic in an Indy pit crew. He placed his hands on my back and slid inside of me like a garter snake slithering into a hole to evade a predator. He felt damn good. I couldn't think in words to have a complete thought as he rammed inside of me with short strokes that felt like an engine running at a pretty good rate of speed. I just let out this continuous low growl as he kept chugging, "Uh ... uh ... uh ..."over and over. Every once in a while I'd hear the "whop" sound of the flogger on Mike's skin that sent an extra jolt to his rhythm. The "whop" sound kept coming more frequently and his spasmodic jolts kept getting stronger until he plunged as deep as he could, stiffened, and shot his hot load inside of me. My elbows slipped to the floor and I suddenly realized how sore and exhausted but how totally blown away I was by the whole experience. I felt as if I lost my mind but got it back again. 

And I was still hard.

"OK boys, time to get up," she said as soon as we both regained a sense of normal strength. "You both were so good that I have a treat for you."

She slid her shoulder straps down and revealed her plump, round and full breasts with beautiful light pink areolas and nipples that popped straight out. And the best part was, they were soft and natural. 

"You each get a nip and a bite on each nipple," she said. 

The both of us savored her nipples until she gave each of us a smack on the ass.

"I hope we get to do this again," she said. "This was fun."

Mike scurried to get his clothes on and said he had to run to work. I took my time getting dressed and couldn't keep my eyes off her, and she definitely had her eyes on me as I zipped up.

She started taking off her shoes until I walked up to her with my eyes locked onto hers, and said, "Don't take your shoes off." 

She took one off, placed one hand on her hip, and let the other dangle the shoe off to the side in defiance.

I got right in front of her, looked her straight in her eyes, and said, "I know I can fuck you senseless."

"Really?" she asked.

I grabbed her by the arm that held her shoe, pinned it against the wall without moving my stare, and said, "Yes."

I pressed myself against her as I plunged my tongue in her mouth for a seizing kiss that violated her mouth. I made sure she could feel my cock rubbing up against her as I pulled her shoulder straps back down over her shoulders. This time, both of her tits were mine and on my terms. She seemed to like my terms as she tried to dry hump me. 

I grabbed her by the hair and brought her over to a table. I whisked a few things aside before I picked her up, propped her ass on the edge, brought up her feet, took her shoe on her hand and put it back on her foot. 

I unsnapped the closure of her crotch and ran my fingers teasingly up and down her pussy lips.

"I knew you had to be creaming your cunt that whole time," I said. "I bet you were."

"Yes," she said, dropping her head back as I stroked her lips.

"And you wanted to me to fuck you that whole time," I said as I slid two fingers inside of her.

"Oh, God, yes," she said. 

"And you wanted me to fuck you like a sledgehammer," I said as I toyed with her G-spot.

She let out a yelp as I pressed down hard on her G-spot. She got even louder as I ground my thumb onto her clit in a fast circular motion. There was a constant seepage of cum streaming out of her opening.

I pulled out my fingers, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her off the table. I undid my pants and pulled them down just enough for me to draw my cock out in a hurry.

"Down on your knees," I said. "I don't have all day."

She grabbed my cock and took it tight in her mouth. I didn't expect finesse. I just wanted the job done and she seemed to know that by the way she was sucking me off as quickly as she could until I was absolutely rigid.

I picked her up, leaned her ass up against the table, and spread her legs open so I could plow my dick inside of her. We both snarled at each other in our race to see who could come the fastest and the hardest. She made it easy to come. Almost too easy, but sometimes there was nothing quite like a rough and fast quickie. 

I slid her ass all the way on the table so she could compose herself comfortably. I didn't want to zip and go like some inconsiderate prick. I wove my fingers through her dark curly hair, and said. "That was a pretty amazing time. Are you OK?"

She slid off the table, kicked off her shoes, and said, "Yeah, I'm good. More than good."

She walked away to pick up and shirt and threw it on. She must have sensed just like I did that there was a bit of a damp chill in the air. I could hear the rain outside. I took a look through the blinds and it looked as if it hadn't stopped raining the whole time I was there.

"Come back any time," she said as she was pulling up a pair of jeans over her legs. "It was fun."

I gave her a kiss before I headed out the door, not knowing if I would see her again.

Now here she was at Andrea's as pulled reheated crepes out of the microwave.

"She knows that I switch, but she can't know that I pro," she said. "And she can't know about us."

Andrea walked into the room with a huge smile on her face, and said, "Figures. The two biggest troublemakers I know and you already look like you're getting into trouble. What's with the whispers?"

"I just found out she's my illegitimate half-sister," he said. 

We all busted out laughing. I laughed so hard that my guts almost hurt. Or maybe that pang was from the pure fright that Andrea may have heard something that she didn't need to hear.

"Now that you know, will you still accept these flowers from me?" I asked.

Andrea's eyes popped open wide, more so than when I brought in that case of wine for her the other night. I told her the story of where I got them.

"That's so sweet," she said. "I bet you made their day."

"As long as I make yours," I said.

I leaned over to give her a kiss on the side of her cheek, and quickly whispered in her ear, "You look hot."

She did look hot, and all she was wearing was a white tank top and a pair of short running shorts. But most of all, I wanted to cover my tracks and alleviate any suspicion she may have had.

Dinner went surprisingly smooth considering the encounter Greta and I had months before. Aside from her knowing that I like to be fucked by guys and me knowing that she was quite a good fuck herself, if only for one time, I really didn't know a whole lot about Greta except for things Andrea may have said in passing from time to time, but it wasn't enough for me to piece full person together in my mind. I didn't know her mom was a semi-famous artist and her dad was a session musician who both had some small fights of big-time fame back in the late '60's and into the '70's. And Andrea never told me how many companies have commissioned her art for their buildings. 

Through the night, we moved from prosecco to beer to a stick of 420. It seemed to be enough for Greta to loosen up to talk about a painting, in great detail, that she had submitted for the Dirty Show.

"The Dirty Show?" I asked.

Greta told me it was a local erotic art show and quite a party, everyone from art school hipsters to corporate executives and their socialite housewives. And it was costume optional.

I looked at Andrea, make that practically leered at Andrea, and said, "We should go."

She grinned, and said, "You should enter."

"Enter what?" Greta asked.

Andrea told Greta about the photograph I took of her camera in front of her crotch on the bed of that show house. I was surprised that Andrea told her most of the details about how it happened, but I was high, and Andrea said, "I don't mind telling her. A bunch of people are going to see it anyway. Besides, no one will know it's me. You can't see my face."

"Do you think it's good enough?" I asked.

"I think it is, but if you think my judgment is slanted, ask her," Andrea said. "She's brutally honest."

"There's less than two weeks to submit to the call for entry," Greta said. "If you really want me to take a look at it, let's set something up."

"Tell you what, let's meet at my place Friday night," I said. "I'll show you the picture, we'll have some cocktails, and we'll go out for dinner. Do you have a date?"

"Nope," Greta said.

"Great," I said. "I'll fix you up with a buddy of mine I know you'll really like. He's the male version of you. Give me your number so I can pass it along to him and the two of you can break the ice before Friday."

What a brilliant move. It was just the opportunity I needed to have the talk with Greta that we really needed to have.



Better Ch. 19



Chapter 19- Robert

I called my buddy Billy the next morning and asked him if he was up to getting fixed up with Greta on Friday night. Of course, he jumped on the opportunity. How could he not? She was red hot and had an attitude to match, and he could match her wit for wit and laugh for laugh, as well. I wouldn't be surprised if they hit it off.

I didn't tell him that she was a pro Domme. He didn't need to know that side of her unless she wanted him to know. He didn't need to know anything about how I originally I met her. He didn't need to know that I fucked the everblasting life out of her, but I was sure he would appreciate the opportunity to do the same if he got the chance.

He said that he'd call her in the evening to get to know each other a bit before we all got together on Friday night. But now it was my turn to call Greta.

She seemed pretty happy to know that Billy was looking forward to meeting her and would be giving her a call, but she also knew the real reason for my call.

"You haven't told her that you're bi, have you?" she asked.

"I never thought of it that way," I said. "I really prefer women, and I really prefer Andrea. She's an amazing woman, and I'm glad she's giving me a chance to be the kind of guy she deserves in her life."

"She deserves a prince," she said. "She might come off as playing it fast and loose, but as long as I've known her, I was kind of surprised that she ..."

I could tell she wanted to say something that might be taken as offensive.

"Put up with me being a dick?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "That's a way of putting it. But like what I was starting to say, I'm sure the sex between you is hot, but she's not like that with every guy she meets. She wants the fire, she likes to push limits, but she also wants a man who can respect and treat her like the incredible woman that she is. Do you catch my drift?"

I did indeed, and I knew that the possibility of her and I hooking up in any way, shape or form didn't need to be questioned or discussed.

"Now about you and other men, I think that's something she needs to hear from you, the sooner, the better," she said. "I get that you like the down-low thing, but keeping that a secret can really fuck up a relationship. I've seen that happen more than once. I don't want to see her hurt."

"That's the last thing I want to do to her," I said. "But it's also why I couldn't get myself to ..."

I couldn't find the words to say, "start a relationship earlier with her," but Greta did.

"Are you asking me how she might take that information?" she said. "We have friends who are straight as arrows and friends that fill out every curve and color of the rainbow. But telling her that you like to play the hokey pokey with the guys once in a while? I know her well enough that she wouldn't appreciate that finding out by accident. And if you don't tell her in a reasonable amount of time, I will."

I got that Greta told it like it is, but there was something very threatening in her voice, and it wasn't Mistress Gabby playing a role. 

"Are you threatening me?" I asked.

"In a way, yes, but not as an enemy," she said. "She's crazy about you. I see it in her after every time she's been with you, and I've seen her go into these deep blue funks when she hasn't seen you or heard from you for days. It might help her understand why you didn't make a serious move on her earlier. It might even alleviate some fears she might have about throwing her heart in the ring for you. But since I have this information about you, it would be wrong of me to hold it back from her and have her find out by accident, like if she walked in on you with another guy. I couldn't live with that guilt. I love Andrea to pieces. She's my dearest friend in the world, and I don't want to see her hurt."

"And me and Mike and me and you?" I asked.

"Nobody else needs to know about that but us, and that's where it's going to stay," she said.

I pretty much figured we were in agreement with that, but if she was going to hang something over my head, I figured I could leverage some information out of her.

"OK, I have another question for you," I said.

"Ruh-roh," she said. "This conversation is starting to get dangerous."

"It's not bad, really," I said.

"Shoot," she said.

"What about this guy in California?" I asked. "Is he out of the picture?"

"I haven't heard anything officially, but by the way she talks about you, I'm sure he is," she said. "But there's something else I need to know."

I started laughing.

"Geez, you're a nosy fucker," I said.

She started bawling. Howling. I think I opened some levity in this conversation that needed to be there.

"Yep," she said. "Andrea tells me that all the time. But seriously, this is an awkward but a good question."

"What's that?" I asked.

"You haven't told her that you like to Dom, have you?" she asked.

"No, I haven't," I said.

"You should have that talk with her," she said – in a very good way.

Andrea. A sub. I wasn't quite sure how to take that news.

I knew that Andrea liked it when I came on rough to her, but I never thought of having her as a sub. I couldn't see doing that with a woman I would have feelings for. I've always thought that as a side of me that was detached from the real me, and the subs I've had were only players. I always treated them well, but that's all they ever were – players. 

But knowing that about her, I couldn't focus on my work, and I couldn't think of getting away from the desk in the construction trailer on one of our job sites. It was usually the last place I wanted to be. It was pretty rough and spartan. It had pretty generic and serviceable office furniture – stuff from the '70's – like the dark fake veneer top, the black metal doors and sides, and the fake chrome legs of the credenza across from the desk. The glare from the fluorescent lights lit a stark glare on the white walls. I couldn't stop daydreaming of Andrea in a black and white photo bent over that credenza, nude in nothing but a black garter belt and black stockings with her hands tied behind her back in black rope. Her fair skin would catch the glare of the lights just like the walls, but the milky creaminess of it and the soft roundness of her ass would be a beautifully stark contrast to the utilitarian furniture. 

That ass. Oh, that ass. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn't stop thinking about what I could do with it.

Rick came in and caught me thinking a little bit too much. I didn't even know he walked into the trailer until I heard his voice.

"Hey, Earth to Robbie," he said as he snapped his fingers in front of my face. 

I shook my head trying to look sharp and aware. 

"I can see why you're lost in the heavens, but if we don't get the electricians and the HVAC guys aligned, the mall isn't going to let us see the light of day," he said.

"That's why I'm here today," I said. "I have the leads coming in a half an hour. Am I that obvious?"

"That's an understatement," he said. "She's a great girl. Are you bringing her to Johnny's for Mom's birthday on Sunday?"

I almost forgot. If my mind wasn't occupied on work, it was fixated on Andrea. I hadn't thought about anything else for days.

"Sure, and I'll bring her if she's available," I said. 

Wow. I had Andrea, the sweet girl I could bring to meet Mom and Dad and the family. I had Andrea, the woman who could do as much in front of a camera as she could behind it. I had Andrea, the haughty, naughty vixen. And now I had Andrea, who could quite possibly be the most beautiful sub I could ever lay eyes on.

In my head, the black and white slideshow continued. I could see Andrea gagged with a dark bandanna sitting spread eagle on the credenza with her arms tied behind her back with some more of that black rope that ran from the back up the front over the slit of her pussy that would attach the ropes on her wrists to a breast harness in the front. I'd make it short enough so that each time she'd move, even in the slightest way, that the rope would rub against her wet lips and her clit. I wondered how much she would squirm if I were to take a pair of pliers and squeeze the hard metal ends on her nipples or on the pink and very tender and sensitive moist folds of her pussy.

I walked out of the trailer and looked at the high chain link fence that surrounded the job site. I wondered how she would look tied spread eagle on the fence, or find out how much she would like being an exhibitionist if I were to tie her like that with her front end against the fence with her breasts and pussy exposed to an empty parking lot where maybe there was a chance of a mall rent-a-cop driving by on his nightly patrol or a bus that might pass by to make a stop on its late night run. What if there were people on the bus?

My cock was hard and the skin was stretched as tight as it could be. My balls were aching. This was something that I had to do.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and punched up her number.

"Hello, my sweet," I said. "Are you free tonight?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "Tonight's not good."

"How about tomorrow night? Nine o'clock?" I asked.

"I could do nine tomorrow," she said.

Good! I only hoped I could last that long. At least it would give me some time to get the other toys and tools I wanted to have.

"I want you to listen carefully and do everything I say," I said.

I gave her the instructions of what to wear – the garter belt, the black stockings, a pair of black spiky high-heeled shoes. No bra or underwear. I told her to wear a dress that was easy to remove and how to wear her makeup. I told her I wanted her freshly shaved. I told her how to find the construction trailer and that I would be waiting to let her through the locked gate at nine o'clock. Not a minute earlier, not minute later.

I asked her to repeat my requirements. She rattled off the list flawlessly.

"Do you understand what I'm asking of you?" I asked.

"Yes, I do, Sir," she said.

Very nice. She got it.