‘It was … schlocky and messy. I don’t know, I – is this my reward? One way I get a punishment, the other way a reward?’
I like the sudden puzzling tone to his voice. Like his need to work things out breaks through all the memories and arousal and fuck knows what else.
‘Why don’t you carry on and find out?’ I say, between wet kisses. He definitely enjoys it, when I suck his earlobe into my mouth.
‘Hm – oh. Maddie, if you’re going to do that I’m going to stop making sense.’ He brings a hand up, then seems to consider whether he should put it on my bare shoulder or not. Desire wins. ‘ And then I guess … I guess he kissed her, between her legs. I always remember that part the best. He – you know. He went down on her.’
This story is turning out really good. And he’s definitely getting back into it, now.
‘But I’d never heard of anything like that before! I couldn’t believe it. I had to keep re-reading it. And then – Jeez, the most terrible writing. It said something like “he popped just the thick head of his cock into her slick love tunnel” and I – I don’t know what happened to me. I guess it started with her, telling me … that. But it got really strong when I actually read what she’d told me to.’
It’s getting strong, now. He moans, when I slide my hand under the sheets, over his already jumping belly.
But I don’t touch his prick. I wait, until he carries on.
‘I remember thinking: there’s nothing wrong with me, there’s nothing wrong with me – I’m just like the other boys – and being really happy about that. But it was shameful, too. She knew that I was reading this part, and probably getting stiff, and she’d made me do it.
‘Which just made it worse. I know I thought: how am I ever going to be able to stand up, and leave my bedroom? I knew that my body was doing the right thing, but it felt really wrong – massive. And like I couldn’t think straight. Usually, everything in my head was calm, and right. This was just … I know I wanted to touch myself. I knew what to do – in school, they’d all talked about it.
‘But then I thought about my parents catching me, and it sort of just died away.’
He’s really touching me, by this point. Hand on my back, smoothing around and around. Other hand at my hip, tugging me towards him.
His dark eyes meet mine – rueful, I think. And he backs that assessment up with, ‘I think this might be my punishment.’
‘So when did you first masturbate?’ I say, in reply – and he grimaces and laughs, somehow at the same time.
‘Later that night. In bed. I made dinner, I washed up, I took a bath. I did everything like normal, calmly – I didn’t even think about anything, though Missy kept trying to nudge me, you know. And then when I got into bed, my mind just filled up with all these thoughts and all those words, and Missy saying … those words.
‘Only in my head they became – if you don’t touch yourself, I’ll punish you.
‘So I did.’
Permission, I think. Permission to be bad.
‘What was it like?’
He answers immediately, despite the thigh I now have hooked over his. And the way I’m rutting against him, slow and steady. Something on me grazes his cock, and he jumps, as though struck.
But he doesn’t move to touch himself.
‘Frustrating. I know that people usually do it really fast, the first time. But it didn’t come easy, to me. I remember being really, really excited – really worked up. And it built up and up and I knew I was supposed to get somewhere and stuff was meant to come out of me but it just wouldn’t happen.
‘I think I sweated through my pyjamas. I had the covers pulled right up so it was boiling, and I definitely thought more than once that I wished I’d had a book, telling me how to do it.’
I try not to laugh, at that – but God. It’s just so him.
‘Then it finally occurred to me to actually think about the stuff in Missy’s book, while I did it. I know – usually I’m quick to figure things out. But not with myself. Never with myself. I thought about the man, licking her between her legs. And I rubbed hard – harder than I thought I should. I was sure I’d hurt myself – you know, not be able to pee the next day, or something like that.
‘But it felt so good. It felt so good. I made a noise, when I rubbed it nice and tight. I didn’t mean to and afterwards I was terrified, but I couldn’t help it. And when I came, it went on for ever. I bit right into my lip – the only part of me that was actually damaged, the next day. And I had to wash the sheets, too, because I made a mess everywhere. I was pretty careful, after that – taking to tissues to bed, that sort of thing. Or I’d do it in the bathroom, or the shed – because no one ever went in there. I had to find places quickly, because by then I really … I … well.’
I know. I understand. You’ve come twice tonight, and you’re still so horny that you’re rubbing against a leg that’s barely touching your always eager cock.
‘How did you stand it?’ I say, against the open mouth I’m kissing. And kissing. ‘How did you stand it?’
He moans, in reply, and asks me if he can stop talking now. If he can. If he’s permitted to. And I kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, for being strong enough to ask.
Chapter Twelve
‘I’VE NEVER TOLD ANYONE any of that,’ he says, as he watches me get dressed. He’s sitting on the end of the bed, starkers. Still hard, because we kissed, and rolled around on the bed, but no further orgasms took place.
Further orgasms would have just been insane, and eager to eat into proper adult work time.
‘I like that you’ve never told anyone any of that,’ I say, as I zip my skirt. Pull it down taut, and neat. ‘I like that you’ve got it to tell.’
The sudden lines of worry that have crept over his brow smooth out, at that.
‘Will you tell me about you?’ He still isn’t getting dressed, yet – but that’s OK. I have other plans, for him. ‘Later, I mean.’
‘What do you want to know?’ I ask, from inside the confines of the sweater I’m pulling over my head. When I finally break free, I finish with, ‘That I first masturbated at an age much younger than yours, while reading Judy Blume and thinking about Corey Haim?’
He surprises me with a head duck and an eyebrow raise.
‘The dirty Judy Blume,’ he says, and it’s not a question. I give him a wry smile, for that one. I guess all kids – even sexually stunted ones – know about the dirty Judy Blume.
‘Yeah. That one. I didn’t have any epic voyage of discovery, like you.’ He comes close to grinning. I think because I called it an epic voyage. ‘Though looking back, I’ve always been attracted to a certain sort of man. And I think that … maybe I haven’t understood myself, very well.’
I eye him, as I say it. See him really clear. I wonder if in ten year’s time, I won’t ever forget what he’s given me, over these past couple of months. It’s been something, all right.
It still is something.
‘No,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t get up. Don’t get dressed.’
He’s half-standing, when his face floods with surprise. I think he even starts to protest, though that soon disappears. I think it goes when he sees my expression, which feels flat and calm and right on me.
‘I want you to stay up here. Naked – all the time,’ I say, and suddenly wish I’d made time for that last orgasm. He was right – you just know it, inside. You know.
‘Maddie –’ he starts, but I interrupt.
‘You have to go the bathroom, naked, and make yourself breakfast, naked, and when you’re done, I want you to read or watch television or whatever you want, also naked. Feel free to explore my apartment.’
‘People will see me. Through the window – the window in your living room is huge!’
‘And?’
My hands are on my hips. I don’t know how they got there.
‘What about work? Don’t you want me to –’
‘I’m going to pay you to be up here, waiting
for me, naked. Like my little whore.’
He actually makes a noise, when I use that last word. A real, guttural, excited sort of noise. His cock lurches, between his legs.
‘And you can touch yourself, and play with any of the toys you find in my drawers, and smother your face in my underwear if you feel like it –’ I pause, watching him squirm after each one of those options. Then the pièce de resistance. ‘– but you’re not allowed to come.’
His eyes snap to mine, at that. Fierce, like before – when I said I’d punish him. There’s definitely a defiance, there, but somehow that just makes his need for this all the sweeter.
‘No, Maddie,’ he says. ‘No – don’t make me do that.’
I love his choice of words.
‘I’ve got to get downstairs, OK – so be good. I’ll know if you did it, Gabe. You know I will.’
‘I can’t go all day,’ he moans – almost a whine, in fact.
‘Of course you can.’ I lean down, and kiss him, softly. ‘I have total faith in you.’
Though the truth is, I don’t at all. I don’t because as I’m leaving, I tell him I’ll punish him if he fails. And this time he has to really struggle hard, to keep the dirty furtive smile that threatens, off his face.
It’s more than difficult, to keep myself downstairs. I almost go up at lunch time, but somehow manage to resist. I really want to resist, because in the long run it’ll make it sweeter. It’s making it sweeter right now, as I serve a customer and think about him struggling not to masturbate.
While talking to Jeanette, I wonder if he’s found my sex-toy drawer yet. There’s lube in there, in case he wants to make himself extra slick for his greedy grasping hand. Or there’s a selection of vibrators and butt plugs and dildos, all of which he could do very interesting things with, if he’s feeling daring.
And then there’s my slippery mess of underwear – stockings and flimsy nighties and that little corset thing I have that I’ve never worn for anyone. I think about him going through all of it, and all of my secret private things, and shiver hard enough for Jeanette to ask me if I’m OK.
‘Sure,’ I say, but she definitely now knows more than she’s letting on. I bet she heard last night, when Gabe called out my name. I bet she heard me call out his name, for God’s sake. And tonight, she’s probably going to hear way more stuff, too – like how much I want to pull his hair and make him wait and wait until he begs me for mercy.
It takes everything in me to wait until five. To keep myself calm and measured, as I turn the sign to closed and tidy various items. I guess somehow I thought he might break, and come down all dressed and normal, and the fact that he hasn’t … it seems to be making my palms damp. My hands are shaking, just a little.
God knows what I expect to find. Certainly not a dark and silent apartment, with barely a sound coming from anywhere. A brief image comes to mind – him asleep, in my bed. Or maybe asleep, naked, in the bathtub.
But it gets brushed away fairly quickly by the faint buzz of the television, coming from the bedroom.
At first I think it’s just the news or maybe some weird thing that he likes to watch, like Making Toys For Dummies or Bad Things That Happened In History. Though maybe my body knows differently, because something sure makes me creep into the apartment, on tiptoe. Something makes me shut the door behind myself really quietly, in case it disturbs whatever fascinating thing he might be doing.
Like maybe dressing himself up in my underwear, or … I’ll be honest. My mind doesn’t really get past that one. It freezes me at the just cracked bedroom door, watching the colours from the television flicker against the sliver of wall I can see.
And then the sounds, that only the DVDs I keep in my drawer can make.
Oh what a bad, bad boy he is. Such a bad boy! What am I going to do with him? What? I can barely think coherently, for all the things I’m going to do with him.
He’s not even watching the sweet porn, with the occasional kiss and the nice lighting. No, he’s watching the dirty threesome porn, with the cocks everywhere and the huge amount of filthy talk. I can hear it right now: yeah, nail that arse. Do that pussy. Fuck that mouth.
And many other variations thereof. In fact, it’s one of my favourites because of that brick-headed dude with the potty mouth. He’s not in any way attractive, but, man, he sure can order a girl to do some disgusting things.
Something which Gabe seems to be very, very aware of, when I wander into the bedroom. All casual-like, leaning back against the door I close, one foot crossing over the other.
He reacts on the door click. Which gives me a wonderful opportunity to see him up close and completely oblivious, getting stuck into some hardcore pornography. While wearing my pyjama bottoms.
And OK, it’s not my underwear. He didn’t decide to do his make-up, or anything. But there’s still something distinctly subversive and delicious about him wearing purple pyjama bottoms that are clearly five sizes too short and just a little tight around the thigh. And the cock, of course.
When he fumbles for the remote and blusters things that are not words, delightfully panicked and oh so mussed, he kind of almost stands and I get a truly awesome view of his rock hard prick, stretching out the too-thin material.
It’d be a sight for a hardened sex veteran. I don’t know what it is for me. He has exceeded my expectations, and then some. Hardcore porn while wearing my clothes and, oh my word, he seems to have attached a nipple clamp to just one of his nipples. Just one. As though maybe two would simply be beyond the pale.
My speechlessness tries to disguise itself as steely control. I think it succeeds, because boy does he look nervous. You don’t get nervous if the person you’re facing is clearly about to faint with lust.
‘Oh, um, oh,’ he says. I want to tell him that those three things are no more words than his initial attempt was. And that you don’t stop a DVD by hitting the volume control, so that suddenly MAKE ME COME BABY echoes off the walls.
‘I was just …’ he tries, as he searches the remote for the stop button. So good at finding things, usually! But then I guess it must be difficult, when you’re fumbling and flustered and stiff inside your girl-pants.
‘Watching a dirty movie?’ I offer, and he squirms harder. It doesn’t make it any less sweet, though, that I think he’s doing at least forty per cent of it for my benefit.
‘It was just there, in the drawer. You said I could do whatever I wanted!’
He finally manages to click it off, and his shoulders sag with relief. But his eyes are shining, when they meet mine.
‘You’re right. I did say that, didn’t I.’
He smiles, secret and furtive.
‘I just wanted to see what it was like – I’ve never watched one before.’
‘Well, there’s this thing now called the internet …’
He makes a little noise, half kind of bashful, half amused. Looks down at his bare feet.
‘I only just dared to send off for books. What if they found out it was me?’
‘Who?’
He throws up his hands. Bless him.
‘I don’t know! The government!’
‘Actually they called five minutes ago. You’re wanted for crimes against good sense.’
‘Don’t tease me, Maddie.’
I can’t resist raising an eyebrow at that. Showing some teeth too, maybe.
‘I thought that’s exactly what you wanted from me.’
He frowns, still trying not to smile and squirm and a hundred different things at once.
‘What?’
‘Teasing.’
His expression then becomes a perfect little well, you got me there. Head shrug to one side, as the corners of his mouth turn down. He’s really getting cheeky, this one. And I’m sure I’m not supposed to love it.
‘Though I can see you’re already quite adept at doing it to yourself.’
He clearly has no idea what I’m talking about, until I drop my gaze down and then up again, pointe
dly. You know, in the direction of the little silver thing he’s still got attached, to one of his nipples.
It can’t be doing a good job of whatever it’s supposed to do. Why, I think he’s actually forgotten it’s there!
He certainly snatches it off himself as though that’s the case. And it would have been a really good attempt at hiding it, rapidly, if it were not for the fact that he then winces and clutches at his injured nipple.
I don’t mean to burst out laughing, really I don’t. But he only makes it worse, when he sucks a breath in over his teeth and says:
‘Wow, you should never pull those things off fast. They don’t tell you how much they hurt.’
‘Thought BDSM was all fun and orgasms, huh? No one ever cries for real in Dark Passion or Whip Me Hard, am I right?’
‘At the very least, no one makes themselves cry, with nipple clamps.’
I step towards him, one foot slow in front of the other.
‘Here, let me make it better,’ I say, and he stops rubbing the injured party. He drops his hand, without me having to tell him to.
Then I bend at the waist, and poke out my tongue.
‘Is this the good part of BDSM?’ he asks, when I lick. Just a little. You can see the twin lines the clamp has made around the tiny red point his nipple has become, as though he’s been wearing it for a while.
‘Does it feel like the good part?’
‘Yes.’
His voice wobbles. His body pitches towards me.
‘Did you have a good day at work?’
‘I don’t think we’re going to talk about me, Gabe. Why don’t you tell me about your day? Let’s start with why you wanted to experiment with pain.’
‘I didn’t – I don’t – oh, that’s nice. Lick … lick the other one.’
I do it, just because he dared to ask me.
‘Which feels better?’ I ask, and then he does his little half-laugh and says OK, OK, maybe you’re right. Maybe I just wanted to see what it did to me.
I stand up straight and he sighs, full of disappointment. But he can just go on being disappointed, because we’ve not even got to the crux of my issue. He seems to have forgotten something very important – or else done so on purpose, thrillingly – and now … well.
Control (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) Page 15
