Tex (Burnout) (28 page)

"Why do you need this?" she demanded.

"We both need it," he told her.

"Why?!"

"I need it because I need to own every part of a woman. I love the feeling I get when a woman trusts me enough to let me control her. It's sacred to me when she knows she's putting herself, her safety, her life in my hands and she knows I will do nothing but cherish and pamper her for it."

Abby choked back a sob. "How many?"

"What?"

"How many have there been? Before me? Or are there some you still see?"

As upset as she was, Mark’s voice remained calm and soothing. "Like this? None. I've only ever played in clubs. Most women you meet at clubs won't go home with you, for safety issues. That and they're scared to be outed. Club play is only half-real though. There's always a bouncer or dungeon master or some mentor looking out for everyone. They know it's safe, that's why they only play there. I've never dominated a woman in my home. Ever."

"But you have...equipment. Hardware. Metal rings in floors."

"Because one day I wanted to meet a woman that would see the risks and accept them anyway, because she trusted me."

"But I didn't trust you! I texted my friend. I set up safety nets."

"I know. And that made me like you even more. No smart woman is going to automatically give up control to a total stranger when she first meets him. And I'm only interested in smart women. You set up safety nets; you felt me out; you tested the waters. And then you came to me of your own free will and did something I never thought I'd ever ask any woman to do, give me total control over her body, even if only temporarily.

"I love that you did this. I can't tell you how much it means to me. I don't want to live this 24/7, but the fact that you would do this for me, even on a limited basis, means more to me than I could probably ever tell you."

"Why are you like this?"

He shrugged. "Why are some people born with green eyes and others blue? I have no idea. My parents had a great marriage. My mother submitted to my father." He chuckled. "Although I'm fairly certain it never even remotely resembled this. But he loved her for it."

"You're looking for a woman like your mother?"

He laughed. "No. You are nothing like my mother. Trust me. I don't think she's ever said a foul word in her life and she sure as hell never let a man tell her to masturbate for him. I mean I guess you're both independent and intelligent, but beyond that you don't have much in common. And you don't look anything alike."

Abby snorted. "Well, that's good to know."

"I'm a regular perv. Not a perv perv," Mark told her.

She considered this. "I'm not any kind of perv. Or I wasn't before I met you. Now I don't know what I am."

"Tell me what your last lover was like," he asked.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because earlier I had some thoughts along those lines and I didn't very much like where those thoughts were headed. I don't want to think about those thoughts."

Mark considered this. "This would be earlier in the kitchen where if I'd returned five minutes later you'd have run outside naked just to get away from me?"

"I wasn't going to run. I was just..."

"Having second thoughts?" he asked.

"Yeah, but not about you."

"What then?"

She sighed. "My last lover was boring. With a capital B. Which I never thought about much before, because I don't think about sex much. Or, really I do think about sex, a lot, but I don't think about having it." She frowned. "That made no sense."

"It did to me. So he was boring."

She shrugged. "I thought so, but now I think maybe I was the boring one. Because the ones before that were kind of demanding. But not in the way that you're demanding. Demanding in ways I didn't like. I don't know. Fuck. I'm tired. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Say it anyway."

"They wanted things from me. Wanted me to do stuff to them. With them. Like Jeff's girlfriend jumped out of a cake and gave him a striptease for his birthday, why can't I be cool like that?
Because I am not Jeff's girlfriend
!”

Mark laughed. A rolling belly laugh that shook the whole bed. "Pet, it would be next to impossible for you to jump out of a cake and take your clothes off. You don't like people looking at you sexually and you sure as hell aren't comfortable being the center of attention in that way."

"They wanted me to do everything. Like take charge. I thought they were boring. Or lazy, but-" She paused. "Shit! They wanted me to be like you! Am I so screwed up that people can't tell if I'm a Domme or a sub?!"

"No," he said reassuringly. "Not anyone who knew what they were doing. It was pretty obvious, though, that you were one or the other, at least to some degree. You're way too in control of everything. Very confident, very calculating. But a lot of type A people are Dominant in public and submissive in the bedroom. It didn't take more than a few minutes alone with you to figure out which side of the fence you were on."

She thought about this. "It was the hair thing, wasn't it?" she asked, remembering when he’d grabbed her hair on their first night together and asked her if she was ready to get fucked.

He chuckled. "Yep. Pretty tried and true method. Dominant partners will give it right back when their partners get aggressive. Subs will either submit or be confused by their reaction to it. Submissive people, though, don't always actually submit. Some are afraid of it and push it down where they never have to admit what they want. And a lot of Dominant people never raise a hand to spank anyone in their lifetime. Just because someone's a D-type or an s-type doesn't automatically mean they'll be open to exploring that.

"You have a lot of hangups,” he told her. “ ‘Anal is dirty’. ‘Don't look at me naked’. And some weird feminism thing that even you don't understand."

She scoffed. "It's not weird!"

"Pet, your philosophy, as I'm able to understand it, seems to be that a woman shouldn't submit to man, even if it's what she really wants. So according to you, there's something women shouldn't be allowed to do because they're female. Which would be just about the polar opposite of feminism. You hide behind labels so you don't have to deal with your sexuality. 'Slut', 'Good Girl,' these are important to you, I'm trying to figure out why." He nuzzled her ear. "I'm also trying to teach you that my version of a good girl likes to get fucked."

Heat pooled in her belly at his words and the liquid dark timbre in which he'd spoken them. She squeezed her thighs together. He kissed her, tongue sliding in and out of her mouth. One hand trailed down her back, drifting down, down, down until it found the plug and jiggled it a little.

She moaned.

"Only one or two more sizes to go, pet, until you're ready for me."

His other hand slid down her belly and his fingers played in her growing wetness. "Mmm. So fucking wet." He took her mouth again with his own. When her lips were swollen with kisses he pulled away and grazed his mouth over her bare shoulder. "Do I hurt you, pet? Beyond what you can bear?"

"No," she admitted. "I always think I can't take it, but I do. And-" she stopped.

"And?" he prompted.

"Sometimes I like it," she admitted.

"I know. That's why we do it. If you preferred being in the tub covered in cotton candy and whipped cream while I ate it all off of you, we'd do that instead. I like it when you discover something new about yourself. I love it when you accept it and let go enough to enjoy whatever that might be without being worried if you're a 'slut' or a 'good girl'. In exchange for giving you pleasure, I ask that you be available for my use whenever and however hard I might want to use you.

“I'll also display you for my viewing pleasure whenever and however I choose. My goal is that you choose to serve me in that way without being self-conscious about it, no matter where we are. Men are visual creatures and I love looking at beautiful women. Speaking of that, I think it's time for your present."

She turned to look at him. "But...I didn't...."

He smiled. "You almost made it. Four out of five wasn't bad and, pet, the sight of you humping that table, desperate to get off, was so fucking hot that deserves a reward all on it's own." She blushed. "I love it when you accept what's happening to you and let loose." He threaded his hands through her hair and drew her gaze up to his. "You have no choice in this pet. I will stick things in you. Whatever pleases me at the time. You might as well just enjoy it. And because you did enjoy it, I will give you part of your present. But not all of it. Not yet. Come on. Up, now."

She got out of bed and he clipped the leash on the collar. She got on all fours and they headed to the bathroom. Mark took the chair from the corner, sat her in it and proceeded to brush her hair out until it was almost dry. Then he opened the linen closet and took out a bag, setting it on the counter. "Put your hair up and get pretty for me, pet. It's almost lunchtime. I'll be back in a few minutes."

He left and Abby got up out of the chair and walked over to the sink. The bag was a Nordstrom's bag and when she opened it she discovered a nearly fully stocked Chanel makeup set. Her mouth dropped open. There were foundation powders in three different shades, all appropriate for her skin tone, several eyeshadow compacts in varying hues, pencil liners. She was shocked. There were also several gently curved large hair clips in different color and patterns so she could comply with his request.

She picked up the brush, swept her hair off her neck, and secured it with one of them. Then she sparingly applied some foundation powder and light eyeshadow because it was only afternoon. She lined her eyes with a light brown pencil and stepped back to examine herself in Mark's large bathroom mirror.

She was completely nude. No collar, no cuffs and she was fascinated by her own appearance. She realized she'd never actually spent that much time just looking at herself. Quick checks in bathroom mirrors and department store changing rooms just to make sure her mascara wasn't smudged or the skirt she was buying fit properly were about the sum total of the time Abby spent examining herself.

Her breasts were on the larger side, but her areolas weren't that big. Her nipples were taut little nubs, not too big, not too small. She wasn't the pixie of magazines and ads, but Mark seemed to love her breasts. She ran a hand across her flat tummy. Spending hours underneath cars was definitely better than any crunches she might do at a gym. Her hips were rounded, but she thought about the way Mark liked to hang onto them when he was fucking her.

Abby talked a good game about stick figures and Marilyn Monroe being a size 14, but the truth was she was a little self-conscious, wasn't she? She knew her hourglass figure narrowed the pool of men who would be interested in her, but she couldn't do anything about the breasts without surgery and the hips just seemed to come right along with them. She was a size 12 and probably always would be.

Mark liked the way she looked, though. He was constantly touching her. Running a hand along her hip, cupping a breast, patting her ass, or spanking it. Displayed for his viewing pleasure. Like the dining room table last night. He'd opened up her most intimate parts and looked at them while he ate dinner! And it had felt at first strange and uncomfortable, but the way he kept running his hands on her calves and thighs and tummy had been nice.

Her hand went to her throat and she lightly rubbed the skin there. It felt different without the collar. She'd had it on non-stop since she'd first arrived and she could now feel its absence if she closed her eyes. Mark entered the bathroom and came up behind her. She started to turn but he slipped an arm around her grasping a breast in his hand. He pinched her nipple.

"You look beautiful, pet." his hand slid up to her throat and he wrapped his hand around it, but he didn't squeeze. "Missing your collar?"

She swallowed, increasing the pressure of his hand on her. "Yes, Sir."

He took her earlobe in his mouth and nipped it. "Such a good girl." With his other hand he produced the collar and fastened it snugly around her neck. He attached the leash. "Come, pet. Time for your present."

Confused, she knelt down on the floor. The makeup had been an extravagant gift. It must have cost a small fortune. She followed him down the hall into the bedroom. He unsnapped the leash and took a seat on the chair in the corner.

"Dress for me, pet."

She stood up and looked around the room, her eyes landing on the bed. Laid out on the comforter were a pair of black stockings with lace holdups, a matching lace garter belt, and a beautiful matching bra. She knew they were good quality and very expensive, judging by the metal hooks on the garter belt. The only thing missing were panties.

"Oh, Mark," she said turning to him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

She licked her lips. "Sir. Sir, this is- this is too much. I can't-"

"Don't disrespect me in my own home, pet." He stood up. “Bend over and put your hands on the bed.” She gaped at him. "Now," he ordered.

She was momentarily stunned and placed her hands on the mattress. "Bend over more," he said. "Show me that plug of yours."