Yes, Justin (5 page)

Patricia squirmed, trying to move the egg closer to her G-spot. She didn’t know if she wanted to be angry with Justin for leaving her in the car with this damn tiny vibrator buzzing away inside her. This was exactly what she had asked for in her fantasy—a man who controlled her pleasure and bent her to his will. This wasn’t something she had always wanted, and this wasn’t something she would want all the time, but how she wanted it now!

She yanked on the handcuffs and tried to move her knees, but like her attempt to move the egg, nothing happened. A huge smile stretched her lips. Oh, she loved this, loved that it came from Justin.

All of a sudden, the speed of the vibrations increased. She moaned loudly, the singular sound filling the silent interior of the SUV. The orgasm was close. She knew she should open her eyes to see if Justin was near, but she couldn’t find the energy. She tried to subdue her reaction, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. It jerked and twisted. The seat belt was the only thing stopping her hips from rising to thrust against the empty air. The climax came, washing over her body without quite sating her need.

Good God, she wanted another spanking!

The vibrating ceased, and she groaned. Next to her, the door opened, bringing with it the cool rush of spring. She hadn’t realized how much the car smelled like sex. It took all of her energy to turn her head.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Simply beautiful.”

He freed her knees first. The seat belt came next. Blood flooded back into her nipples as he eased the pinch of the clamps. The pins-and-needles feeling made her gasp and writhe. She wanted to call the sensation painful, but it wasn’t. It was uncomfortable, unsettling, and smacking of promises yet unfulfilled. She ached to feel the heat of his hands or his mouth around them, but he showed no signs of doing that.

He retrieved the egg before seeing to the handcuffs. When he helped her from the car, every muscle in Patricia’s body protested. She had forgotten about the plug filling her ass, but now she was completely aware of it.

“Come,” he ordered. “I’ve run a bath for you.”

He led her to the bathroom. She wanted to take a moment to look at the cabin, but he pushed her forward. The flow of water from the tap pounded a steady beat, calling to her from the bathroom.

“You can see it all later. I’ll give you a half hour alone, Trish. Don’t take out that plug, and don’t masturbate.” With that, he closed the door.

She stared at the solid piece of wood. At first, she marveled at the changes in her husband. He had always been so kind, treating her with respect. They were equals in all things. Now… He still treated her with respect. There was more kindness in him, but there was also a ruthlessness to him, an iron will that made her thighs weak.

Gradually, her musings faded, and she noticed the door. A steel bar hung from leather straps that must have been secured on the other side. Manacles dangled from it. Eye hooks were placed strategically down the door. If she were chained to the manacles, a rope could be threaded through them to bind her waist, her knees, and her ankles.

She blinked away the vision of herself bound there, awaiting Justin’s pleasure or his torture. Perhaps both.

In addition to a tub large enough for two, the bathroom sported a massage table.

Steam wafted from the water filling the tub. She turned off the faucet and eased herself into the water. Cream coated the insides of her thighs, and sweat made other parts of her sticky. She wanted to be clean for Justin. Not since her wedding day had she so wanted to floor Justin with her appearance.

She washed and ran fresh water. Her time was almost up. Maybe he would join her in the tub. Maybe he would bend her over the side and fuck her. Maybe he would tie her to the door. Desire flared, and her hand crept lower, caressing her thigh before finding her soft folds. She pressed her clit. The little nub was already hard and ready.

“I told you not to do that.”

Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t heard the door. Her body was submerged to the shoulder, meaning she could only feel the cool air he brought on her face.

She smiled the most inviting smile she could muster. “I was just thinking about you.”

He pressed his lips together. Instead of feeling defensive, as she usually felt whenever he displayed this expression, she felt the tingle of anticipation.

“Stand up and let the water out.”

She did as he commanded, flipping the lever for the drain with her toe. He wrapped a towel around her and lifted her from the tub. She reached to take the towel from him so she could dry off, but he shook his head.

“No, Trish. You belong to me. I’ll take care of you.”

He patted her dry, and then he turned to the array of after-bath products on the counter. They were hers. She hadn’t noticed those before.

“Lie on the massage table, facedown.”

The table had a place for her face to rest. She did as he commanded. He traced paths down her arms, across her shoulders, over her back and legs. There was no continuity to his pattern. He explored, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Patricia shivered.

“I’m going to take out the plug. I need you to relax.”

A tug and it was gone. The sensation of fullness disappeared, leaving her feeling abandoned and empty. The wet sound of lotion being pumped caught her attention.

Not once in fifteen years had he ever attempted to do anything like this. As he rubbed in the cream, his hands massaged and caressed. It was as erotic as it was tender, as sexy as it was sweet. Patricia felt truly loved and cherished for the first time in far too long.

“Turn over.”

He paid the same attention to the front of her body, lingering over her breasts, kneading them with care.

When he finished, she felt like liquid. She could assume any shape he wanted. She would do anything he commanded. He brushed his finger over her lips, rubbing in her favorite lip balm.

“Spread your legs, slave.”

The narrowness of the table required her to bend her knees and drop her legs over the side. She liked that he called her “slave.” It was another name only he could use.

He teased her folds with the same gentle pressure he had used on her back. Wetness smeared where he touched. The massage had done its job.

“So wet, my slave. So wet for me.”

She wanted him to press harder, to thrust his fingers inside and fuck her with them. He withdrew, and she held in a whimper of protest.

He held his wet fingers to her lips. The musky scent of her arousal filled her nose. “Open, slave. Lick my fingers clean.”

Patricia had never done anything of the sort before. Sure, she had given her share of blowjobs, but this was different. Uncertain as to whether or not she wanted to know her flavor, she opened her mouth. He slid his fingers inside, fucking her mouth with slow, even strokes.

His eyelids fell to half-mast. She recognized the telltale sign of his arousal and sucked harder. The sweet-tart taste of her cream didn’t matter nearly as much as Justin’s reaction. If she could only push him over the edge, he would bend her over the side of the massage table and sink his cock into her empty pussy.

Too soon, he withdrew his fingers. “Well done, slave. You might want to hang on to the table. This is going to hurt a bit.”

Adrenaline pumped through her system. Just because she liked the pain didn’t mean she wasn’t a little afraid of it.

He snagged something from the counter and turned his attention back to her pussy. “Beautiful,” he said. “You know, when we were younger, your pussy was a delicate pink color. Now it’s a bit darker. So are your nipples.” He glanced up at her face. “It’s sexy as hell, Trish. I’ve never told you that before, but it is.”

Heat suffused her neck. She had noticed the changes, especially after each pregnancy, but she never knew what he thought about them. Part of her had wondered if he found her less attractive because if it. Now she knew.

A gentle pinch on her clit chased all thoughts from her head. He was doing something she couldn’t see with the item he hadn’t shown her. The pinch grew sharper, squeezing her clit painfully. She yelped.

“You’ll get used to it, my slave. Just like the nipple clamps.” He grinned and tweaked one nipple, turning it into a hard peak. “We’ll get back to those later.”

Her nipples were still sore from their earlier imprisonment. He took her hand and tugged her into a sitting position. The pinching feeling shifted, and now something pulled as well. Moisture flooded from her pussy, and she knew she would leave behind a wet spot when she stood.

“It’s weighted, my sweet. Whenever you move, you’re going to feel it. Stand up and bend over the table. It’s time for a bigger plug. I plan to be able to fuck you there before you fall asleep tonight.”

He snagged something from a contraption on the counter. It took her a moment, but she recognized a bottle warmer.

Justin squeezed gel onto his fingers and disappeared behind her. She felt the gentle press of his fingers on her anus as he massaged the gel into the muscle.

Her clit throbbed, both in yearning for the same kind of stimulation and in protest over the clamp with its weights pulling down.

“Breathe in and out, my slave. This one is going to hurt a bit more.”

Trish took a deep breath. As she exhaled, he pushed an impossibly large object into her ass. Her muscles stretched, but the bath and the lube had done their jobs. It didn’t hurt at all.

She heard water run as he washed his hands. Trish remained still, her gaze glued to the back of this familiar stranger.

He dried his hands on a towel. “Stand up, slave.”

The fullness from before had nothing on what she felt now. As she straightened, every nerve ending in her pussy screamed as the full effect of the weights combined with the sensations in her ass. She gasped.

He crossed his arms and assessed her with a critical look in his eyes. “Dinner is ready. Afterward, I’m going to make you scream and beg.”

Patricia had no idea how to respond to that. Even if she had made it this far with a stranger, she wouldn’t have felt the tingling anticipation set free by the trust she had in Justin. “Thank you, Sir.”

Dinner wasn’t what she expected. Justin had cooked pasta with a white mushroom sauce. He directed her to a chair. Given the amount of lubricant and wetness seeping from her, she was relieved to see that he had covered it with a towel.

He served her when she expected things to happen the other way around. Patricia always served him when he made it home for dinner. Because she was the one always home, she was used to serving the kids. Taking care of Justin had become a natural extension of the work she already did.

She looked up at him as he set a full plate in front of her. “Thank you, Justin.”

His mouth curved in a pleased smile, and she realized he was pampering her this way to make a point. While she might be his slave this weekend, he would be the one taking care of her. She hadn’t felt this cared for since the early years of their marriage. Tears pricked behind her eyes.

They ate in silence for a little while, both of them satisfying their stomachs before they moved on to address more complicated hungers.

“I’m going to be following the guidelines you laid out in your questionnaire, Trish. If there’s anything you want to change, now is the time to do it.”

When she’d filled in the answers to the hundreds of questions in that questionnaire, visions of Justin had filled her mind. Those answers were tailored to suit Justin and nobody else. She saw that now.

“No, Justin. I trust you. I want to please you.” The throbbing in her clit had reduced to an occasional twinge. Though he hadn’t fastened the clamp very tight, she knew it would hurt anew once he removed it. She shifted in her chair, and the plug moved deliciously inside her.

He sipped his water and watched her. “I can’t do all the things you want in one weekend. We’ll have to work up to some of them, anyway.”

Patricia held the belief that preparation for anything new resided completely in her mind. Perhaps Justin wasn’t ready. This was the first time for both of them, but Justin had the job of seeing to her well-being and dishing out the punishments.

Still, they were both on new ground here. He was learning her body in an entirely new way, and it would take time to do it well. When they had first begun sleeping together, he had taken the time to find those special spots that could trigger the reactions he wanted. If this was how Justin wanted to proceed, then she would trust his decisions. She nodded.

“Before we leave, we need to talk about where this goes from here. We can’t go back to the way things were before.”

He didn’t have to finish his thought. Patricia knew they were headed for divorce or a life filled with complete unhappiness. She didn’t want either option, not when she knew they could be so blissfully happy together. They had been that way once, and they could do it again.

“Yes, Justin.”

He cleared away the dinner plates. She watched as he rinsed and loaded them into the dishwasher. When he dried his hands and turned toward her with a dispassionate expression, adrenaline coursed through her veins. This was it; this was the moment for which she’d yearned.

She wetted her lips.

He crossed the room. The muscles of his thighs straining and bunching under the fabric of his jeans caught and held her attention. When he stopped, she stared at the bulge between his thighs. She’d always considered Justin’s dick the ideal size. It filled her mouth and her pussy perfectly. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been in either place. He’d better do something productive with it pretty damn soon.

“Stand.”

She struggled to her feet, clenching her sphincter so she wouldn’t lose the plug. She had grown accustomed to it, and Justin had used a lot of lubricant. Despite her best effort, it nearly slipped out. Oblivious to her struggle—or perhaps ignoring it—Justin captured her lips in a searing kiss, plundering his tongue inside to master her that way.

Trish melted in his embrace, submitting completely. She followed his lead, participating in the kiss enough to reciprocate but not enough to take over.