by Nikki Sex
And in all that time, the fact that she was trapped in a small dark elevator had not once crossed Kelly's mind.
5. John Taylor
John couldn't really believe it. Kelly Flynn was in his arms. So soft, so vulnerable and so beautiful. Jesus. Right now she belonged to him.
John had intentionally caught up to her in the elevator, having considered that he might actually ask her out. It was an insane scheme, but he couldn’t think of anything else. John had never gone out with a woman in his life, and had no idea what he would do with one if he did. Try to make small talk at a restaurant like they did on TV? But about what? Was there anything he could have in common with the purity and innocence that was hers? Yet strangely compelled, he had been willing to try it.
In the entire time Kelly had been coming to the Basement never once had John been so physically close to her. Hyperaware of her, John knew the minute she arrived and the moment she left, but he had easily managed to camouflage his own interest. Yet John had also been conscious of her eyes upon him, following him wherever he went. Why did she seek him out? Why did she watch him? Because of gossip? He had hoped that maybe she might actually be interested in him.
John knew why now. As an astute, trained observer of both sexes, he couldn't miss the signs. When John had entered the elevator, and stood beside her he saw her pale skin flush, her mouth open, her breaths increase, and her pulse speed up. The woman had also shifted restlessly, with unconscious sexual need. Kelly Flynn had been aroused by his presence.
Kelly Flynn had been aroused by his presence!
The hollow emptiness in his chest eased at the thought. For the last month he had watched Kelly take up with one new Dom after another, telling himself that it was better this way. That she needed the experience. That he didn't have to be first, as long as he had her eventually. And perhaps, just maybe he would be her last. Yet he couldn’t work up the nerve to ask if she would let him Top her. Because what if she said no?
It was obvious that Kelly didn't recognize him, and yet he could never have forgotten her. When he had first seen her at the Basement he had thought he had finally lost his mind. He was sure that she was a hallucination, something from his own subconscious coming to life.
Kelly wasn't a child anymore, but she was still the same amazing person, the opposite of himself: cheerful, happy and naturally kind. The woman tried his emotional control, and had done so from the first. Why was that? Was Kelly Flynn the dream? He already loved her - he always had, in his peculiar dysfunctional way. But could Kelly Flynn love him? This was crazy thinking and he knew it. For how could he ever have a real relationship with anyone?
His own subs had suffered and his sadism had reached new heights. Every time Kelly went with another Dom he had to fight not to push his poor subs too far too fast due to an unfamiliar jealous rage. But here she was now, in his arms. "Have faith, mon ami for the universe will provide," André Chevalier had told him. Well, he had never truly believed that, but right now it held an aspect of truth.
Thank you, universe, for disabling this elevator, came the ironic idle thought. But he really was grateful.
John mused over the recent events. When Kelly had started screaming after the lights went out he had almost gone ballistic himself. Always controlled, this immediate reaction had shocked him. Never had he been consumed by such wild and uncontained emotions, and such bizarre ones for him, too. He had to help her, he needed to protect her and save her from whatever was happening – all quite foreign feelings, unless he was deep in a scene with a sub. The only time he felt connected was while dominating a scene, and of course to a lesser degree with his friend, André Chevalier.
And now, here with Kelly Flynn.
Luckily John's instincts had kicked in, and his understanding of the human body. First, control the incident and then find what the hell had happened. Christ he was glad that he had taken pre-med. No one understood human anatomy, what the human body could take and what it couldn't, or how to manage trauma better than he did.
André Chevalier had taught him everything there was to know about pleasing a woman or a man. He had also made John have sex with his subs, bringing them to climax in various ways, all for their gratification – and certainly not his own.
"Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, John," André continually reminded him. "Always your goal is pleasure – c’est très important! Oui, pain, yes of course, as much as you wish without causing permanent marks or physical damage. Even if the sub desires such scars, I do not recommend this. With time, people change their mind John. But pain must only be used as a means to ultimately add to your sub's sensation of pleasure, mon ami. To do otherwise is un péché noir - a black sin. It will tarnish the soul. You are a good man, John Taylor, and such is not for you."
Under André’s tutelage, John had become a master in both pleasure and pain. Thus it had been a simple matter for him to divert Kelly from her terror with an orgasm. Kelly had simply been in shock. The small, dark, enclosed space of the elevator had triggered a childhood PTSD event.
John felt a sudden need to swallow, for he had been affected by her panic. Always physically in control, he decided to allow himself to swallow, and did so. Yet the significance of the need was not lost to him. Kelly Flynn was important. It had hurt him to know that she was suffering. The irony didn't escape his notice - it was such an odd problem for him to experience.
John continued to softly rub Kelly's back, as she rested from the extreme violence of those multiple orgasms of hers. He hadn't seen them of course, but he had felt every one when her body thrashed and her cunt had tightened in convulsive waves around his fingers. The candid details of her fantasy of him had his balls tingling, and his cock throbbed and twitched the more she revealed.
All this time he had been masturbating nightly, dreaming of her. And all that time she had been thinking of him. God he wanted to fuck her. He really did, and this surprised him because he never wanted that. He never even thought about that.
What he really wanted to do was hurt her.
6. Off the Cliff
Kelly doesn't like pain, he thought, and disappointment stabbed at him. But maybe, like many others, I can teach her to enjoy it.
John found it difficult to be emotionally involved with the rest of the human race, except through pain. But with pain there could be in his experience, no greater bond. There was always a point, a moment of surrender when torturing someone. It was the ultimate joining, when the eyes met and two souls linked in a place far above the physical realm.
Correctly done, pain was profound. It was a spiritual release, and an honest connection like no other. The reward of torment, the subs willing submission, the agony, then mercy and forgiveness. Such was a gift from each to each other. Kelly liked a spanking and some hurt, but could she like it enough to meet the heights he wanted to take her to? For he would never ever take her anywhere she didn’t want to go.
God that kiss. John didn't kiss, but he had longed to kiss her. It was as if her goodness flowed into him with that kiss. Kelly was all lightness to his dark, all radiant white to the dirty black hole of his own darkness. John wanted to kiss her again.
"John?" Kelly said, stirring from her trance-like state of release.
"Yes?"
She sat up. "I know you never allow anyone…" she cleared her throat, "I mean do you mind if I suck you off?"
"I don't do that," he replied instantly.
"Oh," she said in a forlorn voice, clearly saddened by his response.
With logic and observation, John was attuned to others. These were ingrained skills he had trained into himself on purpose. John noticed everything, but even more so with Kelly. She was submissive, and most submissive women found real pleasure through serving a Dom in that way. This was a natural part of Kelly's makeup. John hadn't wanted to wound her. Hurting her felt like hurting himself. What was that about? Why was that?
There was a long pause while John considered granting her wish. Could he climax with
Kelly? He had tried with other submissives both male and female, but was utterly incapable. Only twice had he been able to climax with another.
Once had been on his eighteenth birthday, when he had begged his Aunt Brenda to take his virginity. That had been a terrible day. Brenda had been kind and understanding. She knew his history by then, and felt responsible. Aunt Brenda had been the only good thing in his life ever, and nothing had been her fault. Aunt Brenda had been a beautiful woman. But it had taken him most of the day to finally achieve a climax with her and it had given him no pleasure. John grimaced. He had learned something of what he had wanted to understand about sex, but the entire process had still been hideous.
The other time he had been able to orgasm with another was with André Chevalier, four years ago. At that time the terrible shame he usually felt afterwards had been overridden by grief for Aunt Brenda's death.
Masturbating was safe and regular, particularly after a good session where he and his submissive had brought each other to soaring euphoric heights. At those times he had to relieve himself in the shower even before leaving the club, and those orgasms always produced some enjoyment for they felt clean and pure. Sexual release otherwise was a shameful, dirty, necessity. It was something his body had to do, like urinating, or eating, but less pleasurable than either of those things.
If he understood the problem he would be able to fix it. That was why he had completed a psychology degree after all – but there were no answers there. John Taylor couldn’t climax in the presence of another for he could barely climax on his own. Was it a question of vulnerability? Because he was unable to show how he felt? Or give himself over? Or was it simply negative associations with the entire process?
André had told him that the ability to climax with another would come to him eventually. He had suggested that perhaps it was a matter of the heart and soul, and that John just needed to find someone to love and trust. John gave an internal snort. It seemed an endless, impossible task. But maybe because it was dark, and because for some strange reason he really cared about this girl? Could her purity be a key to find enjoyment and the ability to actually climax with another?
With his arms encircling Kelly's torso, John squeezed, noticing that this was an impulsive affectionate touch. Usually every action he took when near others, except during a scene, was pre-thought out beforehand. John didn’t feel affection for anyone unless he had brought a submissive to release through pain, yet he was fond of Kelly. Was it karmic? Was it meant to be this way? But what if she couldn’t make him climax? How could he face Kelly again after exposing her to his own personal shame?
André Chevalier had assured John that someday he would find someone, or they would find him. John wondered if Kelly could be that someone. It felt right, but how could he trust feelings? Especially when he preferred to cut his emotions off all together and live without them entirely.
John's jaw clenched with decision. He should just say no and forget the whole thing. But he couldn't do that. Because he didn't want to hurt Kelly.
God damn the woman was messing with his head, yet he was incurably drawn to her. He would simply have to do it. "Courage, mon ami," he could hear the words of his mentor say in the back of his mind. It was madness, and it was well beyond daring, but he wanted to risk everything. Because of her. 'Yes, I'll do it, he decided. For her.
"I don't have a condom," he suddenly said, realizing with both relief and agony that he may not be able to throw himself off this cliff after all.
7. Queasy
John wasn't frequently surprised, but even as a child Kelly had stunned him with the unexpected. Irrepressibly cheerful, even trapped in a small dark room, she laughed out loud.
"The man with brandy in his jacket doesn't have a condom? Well, don't worry, I have one in my purse," Kelly said, "but I'd rather not use it, if that's okay. I mean, we both have had all the tests for the club, and I always use condoms. But because it's just oral, and because…" she stopped suddenly, and John knew then that she had found something she didn’t want to tell him. And since she didn’t want to tell, he would force her to do so. That was just who he was.
"Tell me, Kelly. You said because…"
"Because sucking you to completion will be special for me. I want to do something nice for you, John. I really do. I don’t know why. I know you never do oral or even sex with anyone, but will you let me? Just this once?"
"I will allow it, Kelly," he said, as if granting her a privilege, which in fact he was. No one ever touched him there. Never. His body reacted, wanting to tremble and move but he automatically suppressed those urges as he always had, with rigid self-control.
"Oh God, really?" she said, her voice leaping with enthusiasm.
In the darkness, John permitted himself to smile, something he would never do otherwise. John avoided showing emotion, hell he didn't even allow emotion. It was a habit, and a survival mechanism, he knew that. It was difficult to change. Yet here in the darkness Kelly had made him inexplicably happy, and he felt comfortable grinning as broadly as he liked.
John stood up, and Kelly moved toward him, resting her trembling hands on his hips. She reached up for his buckle, and undid it and his zip, pulling his leather pants down past his thighs, allowing his hard cock to spring free. It ached, and dripped, but John was used to that. It was as easy for him to disconnect from his own cock as it was to be detached from people, or even himself. He moved his legs apart, making himself the perfect angle for the height of her mouth.
"Um, do you want or don’t want anything particular?" she asked.
"No," he said dispassionately. For some reason he just couldn't be involved. Even with Kelly. Yet his cock was certainly interested, so perhaps nature would take its course.
Kelly said, "Um, John?"
"Yes?"
"Um, before I start, I just want to say, I like to do it, but I really don’t know if I'm any good at it. I just want to say, if you think I can do it better or if you want me to do something differently, will you tell me?"
He heard an odd catch in her voice. John put his hand down to her face, and felt her hot tears once more. What did it mean? Why was she weeping now? Kelly was so hard to understand sometimes. "Tell me why you are crying," he ordered.
"I don’t know if I can explain," she said with a hitch in her breathing.
"Try."
Kelly blew out a breath of air. "It may be a woman thing that a man can't appreciate. I just feel so emotional. You," she sniffed loudly, "You have been so kind to me tonight, and I just never expected it. You made a horrible experience the most memorable event of my life." Kelly was weeping even more, John could tell even without an ability to see her. Her voice was raised and her turbulent emotions flowed over him like a river racing through a rocky gorge: they were fresh, honest, and purifying. Something inside his own chest stirred.
"I am honestly so glad this stupid elevator broke," she said, and she sniffed loudly once again.
Kelly's childlike, snuffling runny nose touched him. The woman really was just so damn sweet. John reached into his jacket, pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to her.
Kelly laughed, "Oh my God! Who has a handkerchief in their jacket?" She blew her nose loudly. "You have everything. Brandy, handkerchief. What next?"
"My Aunt Brenda always had a handkerchief," John said musingly.
"Really? Do you like her? Is she a good Aunt?
"She's dead," he said flatly. "But I loved her very much." John was surprised at the automatically truthful response he had given. Not that he usually lied. More that he never told anyone about himself. Never. Such was his habit and unbreakable rule. But somehow here in the shelter of darkness he had wanted to remember Aunt Brenda, and he had wanted to share that memory with Kelly.
"I'm so sorry. It's hard to lose someone you love."
"Yes," John said. He skimmed his fingers lightly over her face, stroking her cheeks affectionately. Kelly didn’t think she had much experience in going down on a ma
n. Well, he hadn't much experience in receiving such attentions.
Honestly, even the idea of it made him feel a little queasy.
8. Only You
John's thumb wiped her hot tears, but more were coming. Kelly had so many feelings, while he had none. My God she was his opposite in every way. But the fact she was shedding tears for him touched him, and he found he wanted to climax for her sake, if not his own.
For her happiness – not his own.
They were unfamiliar feelings Kelly was rousing within, and they swelled with terrifying uncertainly, but he didn't crush them down or deny them as he normally would. Like he had with her emotions, he let his own flow over him, deciding to simply experience them.
The words from his mentor, André Chevalier came to him then, "You are cut off mon ami, oui, but you are not an evil man. Your past has taught you to hide, even from yourself. But do not despair. You came to me, n'est pas? That was an act of valor. Continue with such courage, jeun home. Life, for all its trials, is a healing process. Trust in what I tell you now. All will resolve in the fullness of time."
John recalled Kelly's words, when he had asked her if she wanted to climax for him. She had said she did, "For you. Only for you." It was as if she had reflected herself right inside of him, more perfectly than a mirror, because he felt exactly the same way toward her.
John decided to be brave enough to tell her that.
He withdrew his hands, placing them passively beside his thighs. "Suck me off, Kelly. You can’t do it wrong. Anything you do will be right. There's no one else I want. Just you. Only you."
The sound Kelly made was between a sob and a sigh, and John knew the emotional woman was no doubt crying again. It made him want to cry, too, which of course was impossible and was just another step he was taking on the road to total madness.
