Patricia trailed her hand over the footboard. “Where on earth did you find a leather bed?”
“It’s leather and mahogany, with matching mahogany pieces. This is New York. You can find anything you want here.”
Patricia picked up a leather strap with a buckle hanging on it from the side of the bed. Each corner had one. “And what are these?”
“Accessories.”
“Do I need to ask what for?”
“Lie down, Patricia. Allow me to demonstrate.” “It’s amazing!”
“What is?”
“This.” Patricia brushed the tip of Marc’s cock with her finger. “You’re still hard, even after having three orgasms in a few hours. Are you taking Viagra or something?”
“This is all me, sweetheart! I don’t need no stinking Viagra! And I’m ready for more.” Marc took the strap from her hand. “Lie down and put your hands over your head.”
“You’re going to strap me to the bed, aren’t you?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Well, at least I won’t fall down if I’m on the bed!” Patricia crawled on the bed, not caring that Marc had a bird’s eye view of both her ass and her pussy. She stretched out in the middle, with ample room left on either side. “This is a fucking big bed!”
“I told you, it’s a king, just in case we ever have company.”
“Like Lenny?” She knew that one would hit a nerve.
“Actually, maybe I should get the name and number of that cutie he used as a candlestick. She likes the dripping-wax thing.”
Patricia flexed her legs and arms, prepping for being immobilized again. “I’ll bring my popcorn and watch, thank you very much.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“My sense of adventure is alive and well in an East Village loft, thank you very much! Hot wax leaving me cold doesn’t mean I’m not adventurous!”
“Well, let’s see how daring you are!” Marc wrapped the leather strap around her ankle and then buckled it. After doing the same to the other ankle, he adjusted the tension of the straps. He did the same to her wrists. When he finished, Patricia lay spread-eagled, bound hand and foot to the bed.
Patricia realized Marc hadn’t thought to bring the blindfold. Grateful for the freedom to see, she watched Marc’s cock as he walked around the bed. He had sustained his erection since before he tied her to the ladder. Without question, he would fuck her. Her cunt burned with wanting him inside. She waited for him to get on the bed with her. He didn’t.
“What are you doing? Aren’t we going to fuck?”
“Eventually.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means eventually.” He reached under the bed and pulled out a plastic box. “Let’s see what we might have in here.”
“Marc!”
“Yes, Patricia?”
“I can’t take much more!”
“Oh, I think you can. I made sure this box would be slow, sweet torture.” Patricia groaned. “What, you don’t want to be teased?” Marc took a feather duster out of the box.
“Shit, Marc! You know how ticklish I am!”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” He brushed the feathers between her breasts, down her belly and then lightly tickled her pussy.
Patricia squirmed and pulled at the restraints. “Damn it, Marc! I would rather be spanked than this. I can’t stand it!”
“Stop resisting, Patricia!” Marc stopped, his jaw drawing a hard line across his face. “Let me give you some advice.”
“A message from the oracle! I can’t fucking wait to hear this!”
“You are hardly in a position at the moment to piss me off, sweetheart! I would watch your mouth if I were you.” Marc leaned in close to her ear. “Now listen closely.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, actually you don’t. When we met for our first session on Monday, you said something that impressed me. You said, ‘I just want to turn off my mind and feel.’ Well, Tricia, that’s what this is about. I’m giving you that opportunity. What you do with it is up to you.”
“And what are you doing Marc, besides getting your rocks off?”
“I’m feeling with you, possibly for the first time since I’ve known you.”
The seriousness of Marc’s comment silenced Patricia. During the last week, the wall between them had begun to crumble. Unless she wanted to risk rebuilding it, she had to check her sarcasm at the door.
“All right, you win. I’ll do what you tell me to do, as long as you promise to fuck me.” Marc’s cock dangled close to her face, like a carrot in front of a donkey. “I want your prick in me. What do I have to do to get it there?”
“All you have to do is relax. Give yourself permission to feel. Don’t resist, don’t struggle, and more than anything, don’t think. Focus on the sensations, nothing else.”
“Now you sound like Dr. Ruth. Next thing you’ll be telling me is that an orgasm is just a reflex, like a sneeze!”
“Well, it is. She’s right.”
“It’s been hours since I’ve had one, I don’t remember.”
“I promise you Patricia, before I take off those leather shackles, you will be royally fucked and you will have an orgasm.” Again the tension between them had broken without a fight.
“So, what else do you have in your Pandora’s box?”
“Since you asked, let me have a look.” Marc rummaged though the box and pulled out a small red bottle. “Let’s see if this works.”
Patricia strained to see. “What is it?”
“The description says, ‘Feel the heat. Hot warming lubricant is the perfect addition to a night of passion.’ Sounds like just what the doctor ordered, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, God!”
Marc squirted a dollop onto his hand. “Smell that! It’s cherry. Says on the bottle it’s edible.” Marc cupped Patricia’s vulva in his palm and massaged the lotion deep into the soft tissue. Watching her closely, he added, “Considerate of them to flavor it. Makes me want to eat your pussy.”
Marc squirted more of the warming lube directly onto her clitoris. The initial cool sensation quickly warmed as he continued to rub her. She had the impulse to raise her hips off of the bed to meet his hand, but quickly stifled the urge. Marc noticed.
“Tricia, what are you feeling?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You suddenly tightened up. Tell me why.”
“I want to cry.”
“Why?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what?”
“You touched me like this the first time we made love.” She almost sobbed, but forced it into a laugh. “Of course, I wasn’t tied to the bed that night with horse liniment making my clit hot.”
“Your clit was plenty hot. I remember everything about that night.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. That was the night I fell in love with you.”
Patricia couldn’t stop the tears from sliding down her cheek. “You’re fucking killing me.”
“No, Patricia, I’m fucking keeping you alive.”
The sob that broke from Patricia’s throat rang in her own ears. Something shattered inside her heart, the icy wall that insulated her from the world and froze Marc out of her life. The cherry red heat seemed to travel from her groin into her chest, its warmth melting the disintegrating ice.
She continued to cry. Marc did not stop rubbing her clit, and the effects of the lotion became more intense. “Shhhh, Patricia, it’s all right. This is the release you need. Allow yourself the space to feel. That’s all there is, just the feeling. Whatever it is, it’s all right.”
Marc’s voice soothed her. Even though the tears continued to run down her cheeks, her focus shifted to the incredible heat building in her belly. It wasn’t just the lube, something else had kicked in. In a fluid motion, her hips undulated underneath Marc’s hand.
He stopped r
ubbing her and held his hand still. She masturbated against his fingers, her movement limited by her bondage. Even with the leather straps holding her ankles and wrists, she could tilt her pelvis and rub.
“That’s right, pretty lady, make it feel good. I know you want to come, but you haven’t told me how much. How much do you want to come, Tricia?”
Marc’s hypnotic monotone lulled her, and calmed her. “Marc, I want to come so bad, but I want to come with you inside me. Please, fuck me and make me come. Dear God, please do it now!”
“First, let’s clean your face.” After grabbing a wad of tissues from a box by the bed, Marc wiped Patricia’s nose and dried her cheeks. “There, that’s better. And let’s take these off.” After unhooking the chain around her neck, Marc opened the screws on the nipple clamps and gently pulled them off of her breasts. He tossed them into the box with the other toys, and then leaned over and kissed her breasts. “You are so fucking beautiful, Tricia.”
Patricia started to speak. Marc put his fingertips on her lips. “Yes, I remember. I said the same thing on that first night. It’s just as true now as it was then.”
Opening her mouth, Patricia licked Marc’s fingers, the same fingers that had masturbated her a few minutes ago. She tasted her own juice, tinged with cherry. Marc did not pull his hand away. She closed her mouth over his fingertips and sucked them, the way she had sucked his cock earlier that night.
Marc stretched out on the bed. He slid his fingers out of her mouth and traced a line across her lips. Then he kissed her. His lips barely touched hers at first, the softness of the kiss belying the growing fire. When Marc rolled on top of her, she didn’t expect it. She moaned into his mouth as he kissed her harder, his tongue licking her own.
She lay helpless on the bed as he probed between her legs, his cock sliding against her clit. When she felt his tip begin to penetrate her, she pushed upward as hard as she could. The force of her thrust buried his cock in her cunt.
Marc gasped, breaking the kiss. Patricia knew the deep penetration caught him by surprise. She squirmed against him, hoping he would fuck her the way she wanted to be fucked. Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “Fuck me, Mr. Stud. Fuck me and make me come.”
“Oh, yes, pretty lady. I’m going to fuck you so good!”
Patricia did not anticipate Marc’s ferocity. He pulled out and drove himself back into her like a pile driver. Spread-eagled and pinned to the bed, she could do nothing to blunt the force of his thrusts. She squealed as he pounded her, the music not nearly covering the sound. With her pussy stretched wide open, Marc’s prick sunk into her cunt up to his balls with each lunge.
His face contorted with lust, Marc growled at her, “I’m going to fuck you until you come, just like you asked me to do.” She knew he meant it.
As he fucked her, the heat of the lube mixed with the juice in her cunt. She knew Marc had to feel it too, the burning sensation increasing with the friction. With all the concentration she could muster, she focused on the feeling, the tingles a warning that her climax would be soon. As the tingles became spasms, her orgasm shook her body, and she screamed.
“That’s it, bitch, come for me! Come hard for me!” Patricia convulsed underneath Marc as he continued to pound her. “Oh, yeah, your cunt is so hot, Jesus Christ, yes!” Marc pumped his climax into her belly, the same way he had that first night.
Marc didn’t move for several minutes. Patricia had the overwhelming urge to hold him and stroke his hair. But she couldn’t, still being strapped to the bed.
“Marc?”
“Yeah, Patricia, I know, I have to get off of you.”
“And you have to undo these straps.”
Marc smiled down at her. “Now why would I want to do that?”
“Marc Forrest, you’d better damn well let me loose!”
Marc kissed her nose. “Or what?”
“Or you had better be ready to fuck me again PDQ.”
“I surrender! You win this one. Four is it tonight. You’ve drained me dry.”
“It’s about goddamn time! Your balls will need to be rehydrated after tonight!”
“It’s good to hear you’ve recovered your voice.” Marc got up and unbuckled the leather straps. “Do you need to use the toilet before we go to sleep?”
“As much as I don’t want to tackle that ladder, I probably should. I smell like a fresh-baked cherry pie! I need to wash.”
“I should, too. My dick is still hot.”
“I’m happy to know you shared the joy.” Patricia looked over the edge of the mezzanine. “If I jump, do you think I could hit the sofa?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. Let me go down first. I’ll help you.”
Marc steadied Patricia as she climbed down the ladder. After they both used the toilet and washed, Marc poured them each a Remy Martin. “May I toast our evening before we go to bed?”
“I would like that.”
Marc raised his glass. “To be in love is to be with you.” He clinked his glass against Patricia’s. “Thank you for your trust in me.”
“Thank you for giving me another chance.” They drank their nightcap, and then climbed the ladder, together.
7
When Patricia woke up, she smelled coffee. It took her a moment to remember where she was. When she did, she touched the pillow beside her and whispered, “Marc.” She sat up, and saw her new robe lying on the bottom of the bed. Marc had obviously been awake for a while.
She got up and put on the robe. Looking down into the living room, she saw Marc on the sofa drinking a cup of coffee and reading the New York Times. “What time is it?”
Marc glanced at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty.”
“Jesus! Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He turned around and looked up at her. “Because you needed to sleep. Do you need some help with the ladder?”
“Maybe. Let me try it.” Like she had the night before, Patricia got down on her hands and knees. Then she carefully lowered one foot onto the ladder. Pulling herself upright, she put the other foot on the rung. “I think I’ve got it. Getting on the damn thing is half the battle.”
She slowly climbed down, making sure she didn’t step on the bottom of the robe. Marc grabbed her around the waist as she reached the bottom. “That robe is lovely, but I enjoyed the view last night much more.”
“I’m sure you did. By the way, thank you for this. It’s beautiful.”
“I thought you would like it. I remembered the other one you had once upon a time.”
“I thought you did. I noticed it last night.”
“How do you feel today?”
“Great! I slept like a baby, as you already know.”
“No dreams?”
“None that I remember. I think my subconscious is on hiatus, probably conjuring up more demons to be released.”
“Given your inclination for sexualizing your demons, your nontraditional therapy may have to continue for some time.”
“Do I need Dr. Dick’s…” Patricia stopped herself. “I’m sorry, I mean Dr. Richards’ permission for that?”
“No. He already told me you’re too damn smart for traditional therapy. It didn’t work with you. You played it like a chess game. He told me you outmaneuvered him every time.”
“I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want him in my stuff.”
“At least you told him enough about ‘your stuff’ to let me know what the hell was going on. Why didn’t you tell me about all of this, Patricia? Lord knows I asked often enough.”
“Could I have some coffee before we go there? And I could really use some food.”
“All we have is leftover French. You have your choice of beef bourguignon, coq au vin, quiche Lorraine, and I think some scallops provencale. There are also appetizers and desserts left.”
“Lenny really did buy one of everything, didn’t he?”
“He certainly did. We put away a substantial part of it last night, and there is still a heap of food left.”
>
“How about the quiche Lorraine? At least it has eggs in it.”
Patricia helped herself to some coffee while Marc heated the quiche in the microwave. He also put plates, silverware, and napkins on the table. “Tricia, can you bring the carafe of coffee and some milk? I need a refill.”
Patricia brought the coffee and refilled his cup. “I’m getting used to your calling me Tricia. That’s been a hard one for me.”
“I know it has. I’ve always liked it.”
“Dr. Richards helped me realize why I’m so sensitive about it.”
“Did he? I don’t remember reading that in your file.”
“That’s because I never told him. After a session where I talked about my parents, I remembered a conversation I had with my father. He always called me Tricia. We had a fight about my majoring in business management and finance. I remember distinctly what he said. ‘Tricia, you’ll never amount to anything in business. Investing money is a man’s world. You’ll end up being somebody’s secretary.’ I became Patricia that day. I never used Tricia again and I’ve never looked back.”
“When I called you Tricia, you heard your father, didn’t you?”
“I suppose I did.” Marc held her chair as she sat down. “It’s a bitter pill to swallow, finding out I’ve spent my adult life trying to prove my father wrong.”
“Well, you sure as hell have!”
“And my emotions went into a cryogenic freeze because of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell Phil about the connection you made about your name? Your therapist should be told those things.”
“You’re talking like a shrink now, Marc. This isn’t the kind of shit I talk about. You know that.”
“You told him about all of the sexual turmoil. That’s pretty damn personal, Tricia!”
Patricia sipped her coffee and smiled. “He’s such a conservative stuffed shirt! I did it mostly for the shock value. I couldn’t tell if he squirmed because I made him uncomfortable or if it turned him on. Maybe both.”
“Well, that conservative stuffed shirt is responsible for your being here, and for this.” Marc got up. He went to the bookshelf under the mezzanine and picked up an envelope. After giving it to Patricia, he sat back down.
Bound to Ecstasy Page 17
