Domesticated (8 page)

“What is that you’re whistling?” I asked, needing something to think about.

“It’s an oldie. Tanya Tucker.”

Holy Fuck Balls! What the hell was happening to me? I felt faint when Sam started singing the words, “Without you, what do I do with me.” I smiled and shifted my eyes back to the eggs in my pan.

Getting through breakfast without thinking about the dance going on in my pants was difficult. Sam kept my mind occupied by trivial talk. It helped some, but not enough.

“See, you’re a tiny bit there,” he teased, biting my eggs.

“A tiny bit where?”

“Domesticated.”

“You’re still a dick. I’m going to the bathroom. Clean this up,” I ordered, smiling from the laughter behind me. I was being serious.

My bladder was full of coffee and I could only think about one thing. I unsnapped my shorts and moaned, instantly feeling the pleasure my fingers brought to my awaiting pussy. I’ve heard love described like a horrible drug addiction. That’s how I felt when I finally touched myself. It was a relief beyond explanation.

I was so wet, more so than normal. Sliding my shorts down just below my ass, I slid the front of my bikini down—a red one today. I spread my lips, displaying my swollen clitoris while I watched in the little round mirror until I was at the point of no return. I bit into my bottom lip as I felt the first wave of electric shock, deep in the walls of my throbbing sex.

The pain my teeth brought to my lip helped with the scream that wanted to escape while I got my fix. “Aahh, fuck. Hmmm, yes, baby right there,” I coached my reflection as I came—hard. Dropping my head, closing my eyes, and relaxing my breathing, I massaged the remains around my pussy, riding out every last rhythm.

“You okay? You look a little flushed.”

“I’m a lot flushed, but I’m still not cleaning this up. I am paying you.”

“You’re not paying me enough to be your bitch. Get the cups,” Sam ordered, taking our plates and walking away. “Why are you flushed?” 

“Never mind,” I said, standing in a stupor. What if I did pay him enough? What if I could get Sam to really domesticate me, do all the things I only watched other people do? Would he do it? Could I even suggest it?

“Fine, let’s clean up. You probably have a tan to catch.”

That wasn’t so bad. I washed while Sam rinsed, filling the room with chatter about second graders. I didn’t pay close attention, though. I couldn’t get the thought of him dominating me, spanking me, and going down there on me. I never had that. I’m sure it was a lot more hype than it really was, but I wanted to find out for myself.

No. Just stop. This was crazy.

Wasn’t it?

Sam stayed glued to my mind. I couldn’t shake the thought of him doing things to me that I desired. Sam didn’t let me be the snobby bitch I was bred to be. He barely left me alone. The following day was much of the same. We made omelets together and then grilled cheese of all things. I didn’t really eat grilled cheese, but they were so good. Not just any grilled cheese, these were Sam and Kendra’s special grilled cheese with four different cheeses. They were amazing.

I laughed more than I ever have when Sam taught me how to whistle some tune by the Bangles. I didn’t really know who they were, but I had heard the tune “Walk like an Egyptian” before. It actually sounded pretty cool and we were somewhat in tune with each other.

Although I knew things were spiraling out of control with Sam, I spent every day on the yacht with him, being silly and having fun with one thing consuming my mind. I went through the speech in my head over and over, trying to get the nerve to ask. What the hell did you say for something like this? Surely, I wasn’t the first person who wanted to pay a hot guy to do dirty things to them. I just watched a
48 Hours
special the other night about a new website where sugar daddies paid sugar babies to escort. It wasn’t unheard of, was it?

“What is wrong with you?”

“Who me?” I asked, being reverted back to reality.

“No, I was talking to the other girl on this yacht with us. Do you want wine?” he asked again, holding the two empty glasses.

“Yes, I think I’ll take it up on the top deck and lay out for a while.”

“Okay, I’m going to go play with the controls, set this thing up to get us back to shore.”

I walked away swaying my ass. I didn’t care if he was watching. He was watching in my mind and that’s all that mattered. He was doing many other things in my mind, too—things I wanted to pay him to do. He already told me he was too poor to be eccentric. He needed the money. I would be doing him a favor and he would be returning it.

I didn’t sip my wine. I swallowed it in two quaffs, closed my eyes, and tried to get the ridiculous idea out of my head. I couldn’t. No matter how much I tried, I saw myself lying across Sam’s lap while he spanked me, right here in the open sea. And those thoughts landed a desire between my legs that wouldn’t stop. I moved my chair so I could see Sam before he saw me.

Sliding my bottoms to the side first, I looked at myself and slid the wetness up to the spot, needing the stimulation. Normally, I didn’t waste time like this. I mean, I tended to always watch myself for whatever reason. It turned me on more. I liked watching down there. However, I did a bad thing. I thought maybe I could use it for ammunition later. I saw his eyes barely above the ladder. He was watching me. That turned me on more than me watching me.

I even moved my bikini over more for him see. I doubt that he could from where he was, but the thought of him seeing my pussy was overbearing. Nobody ever did that before. Garrison and I had been married for almost five years and he never saw it. I tried to get him to once. It was the only time we ever had oral. Wait. I had oral. He wouldn’t do it and then the bastard told his father about it.

It was right after a New Year’s Eve party at his company. I was intoxicated and horny as hell, not that the alcohol had anything to do with that, but still.

“Let’s have oral sex,”
I blurted out, leaning into my not-so-drunk husband.

“No, we’re not that type. I can’t believe you got this drunk. You shouldn’t act like that around people, Kendra. I don’t like you like this.”

“Do you like me like this?”
I slurred, removing my shirt
. “Come on. I’ll put your dick in my mouth first.”

“Kendra! For God’s sake. Stop it,”
Garrison protested, pushing me off of him.

I dropped to my knees and stroked him through his tuxedo.
“See, he wants to go in my mouth. He’s already hard.”

“Kendra, you need to stop. This isn’t right.”

“Says who? Please, just let me try it, Garrison.”

“It’s dirty. We’re not trashy people.”

“I’m sure other rich men get their dicks sucked.”

“Not in our class. Get up.”

I didn’t move from my knees. I undid his belt and released him to my hand. Stroking him with my hand a couple times, I saw the clear pre-come bead at the end of his dick. He startled, pulling back on his hips when I cupped his balls. Those were also dirty and off limits. I let them go, afraid he wouldn’t let me go through with tasting his cock.

“Kendra, I think you should go to bed now.”

I stroked him again, extracting another bead of clear liquid and then licking it with my tongue, stringing it at least an inch from my organ to his. I knew Garrison wasn’t what you would call gifted in that area, but I thought he was an inch bigger than his normal six inches and a lot harder.

“Kendra,”
Garrison tried, begging for mercy one more time before I took him to the back of my throat. He wasn’t stopping me after that. I made sure of it. I sucked him like a pro, like I’d been doing it for years on a daily basis. I’m sure I even heard a moan. I waited until I felt him shutter, what he always did when he was getting ready to come. I stopped. Knowing I had him as hot and horny as me, I came to my feet, frantically removing my clothes.

I spread myself wide on the bed, almost as wide as his eyes.
“Lick it, Garrison,”
I pleaded.

“I—I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,”
I assured him, writhing my hips into my fingers through my drenched slit.
“Just do it. Please, Garrison,”
I begged, opening my lips with my fingers. Garrison dropped to his knees and looked at my drenched sex.
“Lick it, Garrison.”

He was acting like a boy scared of his own shadow. I had to tell him to lick it two more times before his tongue came in contact with my throbbing clitoris.
“Do it again,”
I coached when he licked once, and pulled back to look at it again
. “Right here, suck me right here,”
I instructed, exposing my little nub as much as possible. I got one more stroke before his freaked out demeanor won and he stood.

“Aahhhh,”
I called below him, wildly, claiming the orgasm he couldn’t seem to extrude from me with my own fingers.
“Fuck me, Garrison,”
I cried, needing more.

“I’m going to sleep in the spare bedroom. I hope you don’t remember your behavior when you wake,”
Garrison disdainfully said, leaving me spread eagle and wanting more.

I got more. I got more with one of my hidden toys while he was in the spare bedroom, jerking off, I was sure.

Mr. Ashby Senior sat me down and had the embarrassing talk the next day about my behavior, the distraction, and unneeded stress I caused my husband. I apologized with red cheeks, mortified that Garrison had told his dad. Garrison never mentioned the incident to me and I never brought it up again. That was the extent of my cock sucking in all my twenty-nine years.

I came again, visualizing Garrison, trying his damnedest to lick me, and knowing Sam was playing peeping tom. Shit. I really just did that. I raised my sunglasses in hopes that it was an illusion and I didn’t really do that. He wasn’t there. I didn’t see him at all. Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe Sam didn’t see that after all.

Descending the latter, I went to Sam. I had to stop this nonsense before I lost my mind and crossed a line that I couldn’t uncross. “Can you take me back?”

“Back where?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“I want to go back to my house.”

“Why? I wanted to show you how to fish.”

“I don’t fish. Take me home,” I ordered, walking away. I had to. Sam was causing me to think things I didn’t think. Things that confused the hell out of me and dirty things, even more than what I did on my own. Jesus Christ, I was ready to proposition the man. He probably would have had me arrested for extortion or something.

“What happened? I don’t get it. We were doing fine. Kendra?” he questioned.

“Don’t call me that. It’s Mrs. Ashby to you. Take me home,” I ordered. I didn’t wait for a response, I closed the door in his face and walked to the bow where I stayed. Part of me was happy when I felt the boat turning in a wide circle. Part of me was sad that he didn’t come after me.

It took a while to get back. We were pretty far out. I stayed at the front of the yacht and ignored Sam all the way back. I did have to wait for him to drop the walk-bridge, though, and it took forever. Looking around, I tried to be casual while I waited with my bag. After denying his hand for help, I exited the boat.

“Hey,” Sam called after me.

“What!?” I snapped with a little more attitude than I meant to share. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me. It was him. That’s exactly what it was.

“Are you going out tomorrow?” he asked with a bit of a hurt look. He must have thought I was some sort of lunatic. I had no reason to be jumping down his throat, other than that’s what I did. What I was taught to do, and how I was taught to treat other people, people like him.

“No, I’ll call the charter service if I need a driver.”

“Kendra?”

“Oh my god. What?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I watched. I couldn’t help it.”

Great.

I didn’t respond. I tossed my arms into the air and walked away, mortified. That would be the last time I saw Sam whatever his name was. I would call Fat Matt that very day and make sure Sam didn’t step foot on my boat again. I never wanted to see his face again.

Embarrassed and ashamed of myself, I walked back to my house in a fog, unbelieving of my actions. What the hell was I doing?

I took a long, hot bath, trying to drown the filth from my body. Nothing drowned it. I was always going to be this way. I was always going to be this person. Always was, always would be. I was doomed and there was nothing I could do—other than what I had been doing. Keep it hidden and rub it in the dark.

Staring down at my sex, I opened my legs and shook my head in disgust, almost like I was giving my innocent female anatomy the guilt that I felt. Sighing, I petted it like a disappointed mother. The mothers unlike my own two. The ones that no matter what they did, they were still loved. Petting turned to a pool of arousal which turned into a satisfying orgasm. How could I stay mad at the one thing that pleased me most?

The mixed berry drink and the blues music helped my gloomy mood. Maybe tomorrow I would have the old guy from last summer back. He was safer than hottie Sam. Leaning against a trashcan, I smiled at the street dancing. I was enjoying my cheese fries and my girly drink when I froze, closed my eyes, and held my breath. Would this ever end?

“I’m going to get a restraining order if you don’t stop following me around,” the familiar voice, Sam, said from behind. I shouldn’t have turned around. Guys shouldn’t look that good in jeans. Garrison never looked that hot in a white collared shirt. He never smelled that good, either. Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

“You couldn’t just move on, could you?”

“Not when you’re standing here alone, looking so pretty. I mean I could have, but there’s this attraction, magnet-like thing that keeps pulling me to you. You feel it? You do, don’t you?” he teased. I cracked the smile that I was trying hard not to show him. “I’m sorry. I should have cleared my throat or something. Please forgive me.”