“Thanks for understanding. I need to stand on my own two feet, especially in the courtroom. I want to make him apprehensive and nervous around me, not afraid of my boyfriend.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows and she corrected with, “Fiancé. Sir.”
Ethan looked pleased with her time when the marbles finally dropped. He removed the harness and the stretching ring, and worked a large plug partway into her, stopping when she told him it was too much. He held it in place longer than she wanted, but didn’t push it in farther, and then finally slowly pulled it out.
He tossed the too-big plug into the basket of things to be washed, screwed the center back into her anal ring, bent her over the bed, and quickly reinserted the anal ring before telling her he wanted her, and she’d just have to find a way to keep from coming.
He lifted her hips and stuck his cock in her pussy without fanfare, hammering home the point he was using her for his own pleasure, with no finesse or foreplay, and she barely managed to keep from detonating into uncontrolled spasms. When he finally came and pulled out, she was so frustrated she wanted to cry.
When allowed to stand, she latched onto him, wrapped her leg around his, and shamelessly pushed her clit into his thigh. He chuckled and patted her ass affectionately before pulling her to his chest. He held her tight as he snuggled his nose and lips into the side of her neck, just under her ear.
“Oh god! Ethan. Sir. Please let me come.”
“Mmmm, I like keeping you needy sometimes. I have a feeling you’ll be bad in your sleep if I don’t keep your hands away from your pussy, so I need you to bring me your bondage collar, please.
She groaned in frustration, but didn’t bother arguing. He was sitting up when she returned, and she handed it to him and offered her neck. Her hair was still mostly on top of her head, but she lifted the stray pieces that’d escaped. He used rope to tie both wrist cuffs to the ring at the front of her collar, and when he finished she could reach from the top of her forehead to her belly button, but wouldn’t be able to play with herself. Or wipe.
“What if I have to use the restroom?”
He seemed to be deciding between possibilities, but finally said, “I’ll put a hand towel on the edge of the tub. You can straddle it and dry yourself.” He grinned as he added, “If I catch you humping the tub though, you’ll be in trouble.”
Ethan took her from behind while they lay side by side the next morning, holding her leg in the air with his arm under her knee, and reminding her she couldn’t come as he pounded her from behind with the ring stretching her ass.
He made her stand on her kitchen island with her legs spread wide and the heavy anal beads in her ass while he made breakfast. She tried to argue it wasn’t sanitary, but knew it was a weak argument, as he’d worn gloves to insert them, and then promptly disposed of the gloves and washed his hands. He had a metal tray under her to catch the beads when they fell, so she couldn’t even say she’d infect the countertop when they dropped.
He tucked a vibrating bullet into her pussy as she held the anal beads, and she could swear the beads in her ass were vibrating, too. He finished the omelets, situated them beside the crepes, and glanced up to say, “Go on into the bathroom and take them out. Wash your hands before you come back. I think it’s time to add more weight, so you don’t have to hold them so long.”
When breakfast was over he worked the next size plug into her, and strapped her into the harness to be sure it stayed put. She thought she could handle it okay when she was on hands and knees, but when she twisted around to stand up, she gasped at the stretch.
“Sir, it’s more than I thought. I’m not sure I can handle it.”
“Okay, I’ll help.” His voice was kind, soothing. “Find a comfortable position, either on your back or your side. We’ll give you more time to get used to it before you try to move around too much.”
Unfortunately, his idea of taking her mind off the pain in her ass was another couple of hours of teasing and denial. At around eleven o’clock he said, “I planned to wait until noon to take you again, so we could come together, but I’m hard as a rock and there’s no reason I should be denied just because you landed yourself in hot water.”
He situated her with her head over the edge of the bed and fucked her mouth while he played with her clit and slowly fucked her with a narrow vibrator.
Just before he came he barked, “Don’t swallow.”
She held it in her mouth as he came, and for the several minutes he stayed in her mouth to catch his breath before slowly pulling out.
She sat up as soon as he moved to the side, still holding it in her mouth, and he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He kissed her on the nose and moved his hand to her throat with no more pressure than a feather.
“Let me see.” She opened her mouth and he nodded in approval before saying, “Swallow.”
The muscles of her neck pushed against his hand as she swallowed him down. Her gaze locked with his, and the intimacy of the moment left her breathless.
He ran a finger down her chest, between her breasts, to her stomach, and wrapped his hand around her hip bone to pull her into him. His other arm settled on her upper back, and her ear was against his chest when he rumbled, “I love you, Samantha.”
“I love you too, Sir.”
They lay comfortably in bed together, but Sam watched the clock, and when it finally hit noon she said, “It’s noon. Can I have an orgasm? Please Sir?”
He chuckled and said, “Roll onto your back and we’ll see what we can do.”
Her eyes grew large when he settled between her legs and she realized he intended to use his mouth on her. “You were very good, and held off orgasms a few times when you wouldn’t have been able to only a few weeks ago. Consider this your reward. Come as often as you want, no permission needed.”
Sam lost track of her orgasms, but when he finally stopped she fell asleep, and didn’t awaken for hours.
Chapter Nine
Ethan held off on giving her the next test until Sunday evening, and she was only an eighth of an inch short. She took her one stroke of the stainless cane, and knew she’d be okay by Tuesday. Whether she’d make Friday’s goal or not, she wasn’t so sure, but felt she had a shot.
She didn’t take any shortcuts during the week, and even woke up fifteen minutes early a few mornings to be sure she’d have time to work the anal ring in without rushing.
Ethan spent the night Wednesday night, and Sam once again found herself unusually aroused by the enema, though she wasn’t ready to talk to Ethan about it yet. It wasn’t one of his kinks, merely a necessary task to prepare her for depth training. She’d never been turned on by enemas before, and wasn’t sure about her feelings around them now, but the mere idea of Ethan having so much control over her sent her into overdrive, and the injection of the warm water just sent her higher.
Later, as he was buckling the long dildo into her, Ethan made a point of telling her he was pleased with this aspect of her progress, and thought her revised schedule was going to work out okay.
* * * *
Friday morning Sam arrived at the social worker’s office early so she could be in the observation room before Mr. Masterson arrived, in the hopes of avoiding a confrontation. She was surprised to see Mr. Masterson’s attorney already seated and looking over something on his tablet.
They greeted each other cordially before turning their attention to their electronic gadgets. Sam checked her email until the children were brought into the room, and then made notes as the social worker spoke with the kids and initiated a game obviously designed to facilitate conversation about pets. The daughter said she didn’t want any more animals, as they all died, and when the social worker asked a few questions designed to casually find out how they’d died, the children expertly changed the conversation to avoid answering. For an eight and eleven year old, the kids seemed surprisingly mature.
The daughter ran to her dad and hugged him when he entered the room, and the son walked to
Sam finally turned to the other attorney and said, “If I feel the family needs to move to stay safe, I’ll request the court have your client reimburse for moving expenses.”
“He doesn’t seem to be a threat to the children, there’s no reason to keep their whereabouts hidden. I’m surprised you’re going this route, to be honest. You’re usually the sensible one.”
A dozen arguments came to the tip of her tongue, but she knew they’d both seen the same documents, and she’d only be wasting her breath.
Sam saw a few possible signs of the children being careful around their father, but realized it could just be their surroundings, and not an actual fear. However, their time was nearly up when the daughter made mention of her brother trying out for the school play, and how cool it would be if they could both be on stage at the same time.
Mr. Masterson’s face grew red and he slapped his son across the face as he roared, “I’ll not have a faggot son parading around on stage embarrassing me!”
The social worker sprang into action, and must have pushed a button before she placed her body in front of the boy. As Sam opened the door to the hallway a big beefy man flung the door to the other room open and stepped in, so Sam returned to the observation room and called 911 as she watched Mr. Masterson back off and chill out at the sign of Mr. Muscles.
The social worker exited the room with the children, and took them into the room on the other side of Sam’s observation room. They could now see Mr. Masterson through one window, and the children through the other.
Sam requested an officer come make a police report. She expected the other attorney to argue the point when she hung up with the 911 operator, but he was engrossed in the conversation between Mr. Masterson and Mr. Muscles. It seemed Mr. Muscles had his own psych degree, and he was busy asking questions about the source of Mr. Masterson’s anger. Sam could see where the conversation was headed, and kept one eye aimed towards the two men while listening in on the conversation between the social worker and the children. The son was trying to take responsibility, saying it was his fault for asking their mom to let him do something he knew their dad wouldn’t approve of. The daughter felt she was at fault, but she didn’t know why her brother hadn’t tried out before, and had no idea her father would be angry. Neither blamed their father, and Sam knew the course of action she’d take in court.
Mr. Masterson seemed intent on making it easy for her however, as she saw movement and turned in time to see him take a swing at the larger man, only to have his hand caught and his arm twisted painfully as he was pushed to his knees. Mr. Muscles reached for his phone, and Sam didn’t bother telling him she’d already called 911. After all, having two people call for two separate incidents involving the same man was bound to bring the police faster, before a third incident could develop.
She looked at the attorney sitting beside her and said, “Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything, and Sam stood to go speak with her client, sequestered in another room down the hall.
* * * *
Sam met some colleagues for lunch and returned to her office to type up some notes and prepare a restraining order request, to be sure Mr. Masterson couldn’t legally go near his children or soon-to-be ex-wife. The officer assured her he’d turn the report in by two, so she’d have enough time to send someone to pick it up, and use it as a supporting document to file before the courthouse closed. It was a little after three, and her runner should pick it up any minute now, and he’d scan it in and email it to her. As soon as she added the report number to her documents, they’d be ready to go, and the judge’s secretary was aware she’d be coming by to request a temporary restraining order until the judge could see everyone in court next week.
She was typing her notes when her door flew open and Mr. Masterson stepped in.
He spoke low, snarling his words. “You little bitch! It’s your fault I won’t be able to see my kids anymore! You know where they are, and you’re going to tell me.”
Sam stood beside her chair, but didn’t circle around her desk. “After I watched you slap your son this morning, why on earth would you think I’d tell you where he’s living?”
She knew she was supposed to try to defuse the situation, but she really wanted a chance to punch this asshole in the face and follow it up with a kick to the nuts just before she sank her fist into his gut. And possibly land a final punch to his jaw, for good measure.
“Your office is practically empty.” He was clearly trying to scare her as he added, “It seems everyone’s gone home for the day. The cute little receptionist is out front, but she has no idea I’m here, and I didn’t see anyone else as I was looking for an office with your name on the door.”
It was true the office was mostly deserted this late on Friday, but there were enough people around to rescue her if she needed. However, she didn’t break it to him she could scream and draw attention to the men he didn’t see behind closed doors. It was fine with her if he thought he had her alone.
She used a high pitch mouse voice to say, “Oh, I’m so scared, little bitty me in a room all by myself with the big man who slaps children.”
She took a step back, as if afraid, and he stalked around the desk. “Tell me where they are you little cunt, or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
The walls had extra insulation to keep people from overhearing privileged conversations, but his voice was growing louder and someone was bound to hear him soon.
She was debating whether to be responsible and call for reinforcements, or continue to egg him on so she’d have a chance to punch him, when he roared, “You’ll tell me where they are or I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t imagine, you fucking cunt in a suit.”
Her door flew open and one of the other attorneys said, “Hey, what’s going on in here?”
Without taking her eyes from her would-be attacker, she answered, “Mr. Masterson here thought he could threaten me into telling him where his wife is living, so he can go beat on her some more.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think I’ll see if Jackson’s close.”
Another attorney stuck her head around the corner. “No need. I’ve already made the call.” She looked at Mr. Masterson and said, “I don’t know who your attorney is, but I doubt you’re paying him enough to put up with this kind of bullshit.”
They managed to keep Mr. Masterson ranting at them until Jackson, their local friendly police officer, arrived. Sam had half hoped the idiot would act up in front of Jackson, but he settled down, appeared rational, and denied threatening Sam. While they were giving their statements Sam’s phone beeped to let her know the police report she’d been waiting for had arrived, and she printed it and handed it to Jackson.
The officer read it, raised his eyes to Mr. Masterson, and said, “You struck your eleven year old son across the face in front of a court ordered social worker, and then you came to your wife’s attorney’s office to try to force her to tell you where your wife and children are living?”
He shook his head and muttered, “Idiot,” under his breath before finishing the interview and promising Sam he’d have the report written up in time for someone to pick it up first thing Monday morning. Sam didn’t press charges, she only wanted the incident documented so she could enter it as evidence to show his character, so when Jackson escorted Mr. Masterson out of the building Sam finished her paperwork and walked to the courthouse. She obtained the temporary restraining order and arranged for Mr. Masterson to be served the papers as soon as possible.
She called Ethan when she finished. “I’ve had a full day and I’m just now headed home. Any chance we can go for a run this evening before we get started?”
“What happened?”
“It’s a long story, and one I should tell you in person.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yep, not a scratch on me. Where are you?”
“We’re just about finished here and I’m not far from your house. I can get them to drop me off on their way back to the shop, if you can take me to get my truck at some point.”
“That sounds great. Are you too tired for a run?” If he was on a job then he’d been carting furniture and boxes all day, and it was selfish of her to ask him to run with her.
“I’m up for five miles. If you want a longer run I can always ride my bike alongside you.”
Sam decided to take him at his word. “I think five miles should suffice. Maybe. If I’m not finished we can swing by the house for your bike, since it’s still in my garage.”
* * * *
Sam told him about her day as they ran, and could sense him tightening the lid on his temper as her story progressed. He remained silent when she finished, and they ran comfortably beside each other for another couple of miles before he finally spoke.
“If I beat the hell out of him it’ll complicate your case.”
He said it with a completely calm voice, and as a statement, not a question. Sam kept the same conversational tone as she answered, “Correct. And it’ll probably land you in jail.”
They ran another couple of football fields before he asked, “When will you be in court with him again?”
“We’re tentatively on the docket for Wednesday, assuming he doesn’t want to postpone, which I doubt. The temporary restraining order is in force until the judge can hear both sides and either toss it or make it permanent.”
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