by Liz Crowe
I grin. “Say you love me?”
He snorts. “Oh, god, girl, yeah. I love you anyway, but oh my god.” A waiter appears and Jaz blurts out, “Oh, yeah, I guess I should order us some wine, huh? Uh, got a good pinot gris?”
“We do. Two glasses?” Jaz looks at me and I nod. “Two glasses of pinot gris.”
“Thanks,” Jaz manages to mumble out. “God, Kimmie, where did you get that dress?”
“A little place called Melanie’s. Like it?”
He sneers at me. “I’d like it better on the floor.”
I snicker back. “I think we can arrange that.”
“Eat. You’ll need your strength,” Reggie laughs. I can’t help it; I start to belly laugh, and Jaz follows suit. In seconds, Misty’s laughing too, and when we finally get calmed down, I look into the eyes of my beloved and sigh.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of this for me,” I gush and bat my eyes coyly.
“I didn’t.” He lets out a chuckle. “I did it for me!”
“You’re impossible!” I huff and play-slap his arm.
“Yeah, but I’m cute,” he grins back and gives me his best little-boy charm look.
I reply, “Yes. You are,” and pinch his cheek.
“Owwww!” he fakes with a laugh.
The whole dinner is that way. We laugh and talk, and I realize I haven’t felt this comfortable with other people around in a long, long time. But I feel . . .
Secure. That’s it. I’m not waiting for someone to hurt me by saying something rude or mean. I’m not expecting someone to put me down or criticize me. The other three people at this table like and respect me, and yes, I mean Jaz too. He loves me, but he also likes and respects me, and I feel the same way about him. If I’d met him under other circumstances, I think we’d still be good, good friends. He’s just a likeable person, and I enjoy spending time with him. It’s not just about sex. It’s about companionship, and I can honestly say I’ve never been as comfortable and relaxed with anyone else as I am with him.
We say goodnight and drive back to the hotel, chattering and laughing the whole time. “So what are we doing Saturday and Sunday?” he asks me just as we’re pulling into the valet parking.
“Whatever you want to do. I’ve been going and doing the last two days while you’ve been cooped up at the plant. We’ll do what you want.”
“I’d like to stay in bed all day,” he growls into my ear as the valet is walking up.
“We can do that at home,” I laugh and climb out of the car.
But when we step into the room, I hear the door close and his voice behind me snaps out, “Strip. Keep the shoes.”
I’m out of that dress in a flash, only to find that he’s shed everything. I wait as he drapes a towel onto the sofa, sits down sans clothing, and points to his cock. “Mount me.”
I clamber up onto the sofa on my knees and lower myself onto his rigidness. And once again, I’m stretched to bursting and weak with the pressure of his hardness in me. When I start to ride him, he places his hand down low and in front of me, his fingers cupped, knuckles turned in my direction, and with every movement I make, my clit rubs across them and I moan out in need. Ten minutes in, I’m ready to come and working to keep it from happening. “Are you close, Sir?”
“So close, baby girl. So close. Come whenever you’re ready and I’ll be right there with you.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. In mere seconds I shudder and my hips begin to buck, and ten seconds later, he grabs my waist, forces me down on his cock, and grunts his climax into me. Suddenly, we’re kissing and groping and stroking and moaning, and I’m just lost in him, in his lips and his arms. I finally whisper into his mouth, “Jaz Givens, I love you more than I thought it possible to love anyone.”
“I love you that much and more too, Kimmie. And this body, girl, I swear. You’re going to fuck me to death. And I’m going to die a happy man.”
“Good! Want some more?”
“Hell yes! You got more in that honey pot?” he laughs.
“Lots, lots more. More than you’ll ever be able to stand!” I giggle.
“We’ll see about that!” He runs his hands under my legs, stands with me still on his lap, and carries me to the bed, with me shrieking and laughing all the way. Once he drops me there, he strips off his condom and drops on all fours on the bed in front of me. “Spread ‘em, darlin’,” he snarls, and I giggle and open my legs. Next thing I know, his face has disappeared in my mound and I’m writhing in ecstasy. God, this guy knows how to eat pussy, yes he does. I come with a scream, my hands wrapped in his hair and pulling for all I’m worth, and he slides up and into me in one smooth move.
“Wait!”
His eyes shoot up in to his hairline and he barks out, “What?”
“No condom?”
That smile of his is warm and wide. “No. No condom. We’re together forever, so it doesn’t matter. I want you for always, Kimmie. I love you, baby girl.”
“Oh, Jaz.” I can feel the hot tears pouring down my cheeks and I don’t care. “I want you for always too. Just make love to me, please? I need to feel you moving inside me.”
It’s sweet and tender and perfect, and I’m engulfed in the joy of making love with a man who truly loves me, someone I can fully give myself to. His hardness moves inside my softness, and then there’s that moment when the heat and wetness of his cum fills me and I know we’re one.
We lie there in the dark as he goes soft inside me and I look into those eyes. God, I’m so in love with this man. I can’t imagine my life without him and, almost like he’s read my mind, he says, “I never want to live in a world without you in it, angel.”
“I hope you never have to.”
He drops a soft little kiss on my forehead. “I hope I don’t either.
*****
“We need to talk before I go today.” We’re sitting there enjoying another one of those amazing breakfasts they keep bringing. Today it’s cherry crepes with a shit-ton of real whipped cream and enough fresh fruit to keep a monkey happy for a week. “We’re going to the club tonight for the demonstration. Kimmie, if you’re not comfortable with this, I can . . .”
“No. I’m going to do it. I have to. I’ve got to learn it sometime, and this is as good a time as any. I know you’re going to do everything you can to make it successful, so I’m not worried.” I take another bite of the crepe. Hot diggity damn, those are some fine crepes.
“Okay. If you’re sure . . . good god, these crepes are delicious. Do you know how to make these?” he asks around a mouthful.
“No.”
“Well, then, learn. I want these again, and if you make them, they’ll be even better.”
I just laugh. “Why, thank you for your generous but grossly misplaced trust in my culinary skills. You’ll rue the day you said that.”
He lets out a big belly laugh. “Girl, you’re really something! Okay, I’ve got to go. Let’s meet for a very light meal beforehand and then we’ll head on over. I want Misty to bring you to me and then go on with Reggie. I really want to be alone with you for a little while before we go over there and do this. We need that connection.”
I nod in agreement. “I’ll ask her to take me to meet you somewhere that serves soup and salad, light things like that.”
He grabs his wallet and keys. “Sounds perfect. Love you, baby. I’ll see you this evening.” His hand is on the doorknob, but he turns and comes back to me, then kisses me square on the lips. I’m still chewing crepe and he says, “Ummm. You taste good!” I pinch his cheek and he yells out, “Owwww!” again, then heads back for the door.
“And you’re cute as a button, Mr. Givens. Love you too.”
My mission today is different. I’m spending the day looking for a gift for Jaz. It’s got to be something really cool, something I can only get there. Misty insists on taking me to Grant’s Farm, and I finally acquiesce, only because I want to see the Clydesdales. We’re walking around, looking at th
e animals and rides, and walk down to the horse barn. The Clydesdales are out in the pasture that day, but over to the side of the center aisle, there’s a cart manned by a park employee and lots of people crowded around. “Wonder what’s going on over there?” I ask Misty.
“Dunno. Hey, ‘scuse me!” she barks to another employee. “What’s going on over there?”
“Oh, last day. We’ve got a colt to name and we’re drawing the name at two o’clock. Everyone’s trying to get their name into the drawing at the last minute.”
And something shoots across my mind. “I’ve got to do that, Misty. Help me get in there.” I head toward the group, gently shouldering people who are just gawking so I can get close to the cart. When I finally push my way to the front, I pant out, “Can I make an entry, please?”
“I don’t have any more slips, ma’am. Just ran out. Sorry,” the young guy says. And just as I turn to walk away, he calls out, “Wait! There’s one on the floor. Can you reach it?”
I drop to my knees – I don’t care who sees me scrounging around down there – and finally find it. He hands me a pen when I’m upright again, and I blink at the form.
Name: Kimberly Hendricks
Proposed name: Jaz
In honor/memory of: Jasper Andrew Givens
Then I circle honor and drop the slip into the barrel. I know it’s ridiculous – there have to be ten thousand slips in there – but what the hell, right? You never know unless you try.
Misty and I make our way back through the crowd and out the door. “Fingers crossed?”
I just shake my head. “Nah. I just wasted five minutes, but you can’t win the lottery if you don’t buy a ticket.”
“Exactly! Gotta have faith,” she says with a grin.
We eat a funnel cake, something I haven’t had since I was a kid, and then wander around the different little areas where there are animals. There are so many kids around, and I have to smile as I think about Jeffrey and some of the places I took him when he was little. There’s a little girl with a patch over her eye, and I remember when he had a little classmate who had to wear a patch for a “lazy eye,” poor little guy.
At five after two, the public address system in the park crackles to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll now have the drawing to name our newest colt. Let’s see what it is.” There’s a pause, and then the voice says, “And the name drawn is Shazam. Believe it or not, we already have a horse by that name, so we’ll have to draw again.” There’s another pause before the voice calls out, “The name drawn is Suzy Q. Unfortunately, that’s a girl’s name, and this foal is a colt, meaning he’s a boy. We’ll have to try again.” Misty grabs my hand and squeezes so tightly that I’m afraid she’ll break my fingers. “And this time, the name drawn is Felix. Congratulations to Wendy Montgomery! Please come to the park office, and thanks to everyone who participated.”
“Well, that’s that. Let’s go find some postcards.” As we start toward the little gift shops, the PA system rattles again with the sound of someone clearing their throat, and then the same voice from before announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s just been brought to our attention that there was a foal born this morning, another colt, and because we’ve already got all of these names, the management has decided to go ahead and draw a name. Let’s see, what have we got here . . . Chester.” There’s some background noise and the man says, “Not again. Unfortunately, we already have a Chester. Guess we’ll draw another.” Misty’s standing there holding her breath and I start to laugh at her when he says, “And we have a winner! The name drawn is Jaz! Kimberly Hendricks, please come to the park office.”
I’m standing there speechless while Misty jumps up and down, squealing like a three year old. “Come on! Let’s see what they say!” she yells and grabs my hand. “Where’s the park office?” she yells to an employee picking up trash nearby.
“I’ll take you,” the girl calls back. “Follow me.” We run to catch up with her and she leads us down a little narrow alley-type corridor. It opens into a bright, modern office where a rather rotund gentleman is already talking to someone. He turns and smiles.
“Miss Hendricks?”
“Yes, sir!” Now I’m getting excited – this is really happening!
“Congratulations! We don’t give much for this kind of thing, but you do get a certificate and we’ll make your picture with the plate beside the door, and with the foal if it’s awake.”
Before he can say anything else, I ask politely, “I turned in that name because it’s the nickname of my fiancé. Is there any way possible that we could come back tomorrow so he could have his picture made too?”
He smiles so hard his eyes crinkle shut. “Absolutely! Here.” Reaching down to the desktop, he hands me back a business card. Printed on its face is Arnold Foster, Park Manager. “Show this to them at the gate tomorrow and tell them you’re here to see me. They’ll bring you right in.”
“Oh, thank you so much, sir! He’s going to be so surprised and excited!” He shakes my hand with a warm, firm grip, and Misty and I head back out into the park. We stop and get the postcards just like I wanted to, and then we spend some time feeding a kid, the goat kind, before we head to the car. She drops me at a little place called The Salad Bowl where she picks up Reggie and I find Jaz sitting inside, waiting for me.
Over the soup and salad, which is excellent, we talk about tonight, what’s going to happen, everything he can think of to prepare me. He seems excited about it, but the more we talk, the more apprehensive I become. His face is serious when he says, “Okay, Kimmie, listen closely. If you get into trouble, you let me know, understand?” I nod. “I mean it. Don’t just keep going. I want to know if you’re having trouble. Let’s use the red light/green light thing tonight. If you need to call a yellow, you do it, don’t hesitate. I’ll stop and we’ll talk and decide if you can keep going or if you need to stop. We clear on that?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Tonight it’s Master.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good girl. Let’s go.”
We make it to the club in plenty of time, and Jaz checks in with the man at the front window. “Yes, sir, Mr. Dolan is waiting for you. Right that way,” he says and points to a door, then buzzes us through.
Sure enough, Reggie is standing right there on the other side. “I’ll show you two around, and Jaz, I want to show you the performance area I booked for you. If it’s not what you need, we’ll find something that’ll work.” This club is amazing. It makes ours look like a warehouse. We spend a few minutes looking around, then look at the alcove. Jaz pronounces it perfect, and Reggie shows us to the locker rooms. I get a peck on the cheek and a promise that Jaz will be standing outside the ladies’ area when I come out.
Oh, god, this place is fabulous. The locker rooms look like the kind you’d see in a high-end athletic club, and there are a couple of submissives already in there who introduce themselves. They’re both sweet and friendly, and I have a good feeling about the clientele.
I come out in my satin robe to indeed find Jaz standing there, looking scrumptious as always, bare-chested and in his leathers. “You ready?”
“Yes, Master.”
He grins at me. “You sure?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Okay. Not our hometown, so protocol in place. Here we go.” I walk two feet behind him as we’d discussed prior. That’s not usually something he wants, but for tonight and in this position, he feels the need to have everyone acknowledge his expertise, and I’m happy to help that happen. We step up onto the platform, which is lit only with ambient lighting, and he makes sure everything is ready while I fall into the presentation pose I’ve come to find most comfortable. No need to stress myself out with a simple pose when the night’s going to be so stressful for me anyway.
He’s sure that everything he needs is there just about the time a dungeon monitor stops by and says, “Lights up in two minutes.”
Jaz smiles at him. “Thanks.�
� Then he looks to me. “Kimmie, remember: You get in trouble, you say something, understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Okay. We’re up.” As though they’d heard him, the lights in the alcove come up, and we’re there in front of everyone. Apprehension is starting to take up residence in my throat, but I just choke it back down.
I listen in awe as Jaz does a small introduction piece about what we’ll be doing and the art form itself. My mind is running in circles as he speaks, and he jolts me into the moment when he says, “Submissive, rise and come to your Master.”
I rise gracefully and, as he nods, drop my robe. Without a stitch on, I walk straight up to him and stand there, looking downward respectfully, until he tips my head back with a finger under my chin and kisses my lips lightly. “Ready?”
“Yes, Master.” His smile is the only reward I need.
He begins easily enough, wrapping the rope around my ribcage just under my breasts, and I hold my arms out at forty-five degree angles as he showed me earlier. As he wraps, he criss-crosses and knots, and my breasts are isolated and bound tight. That makes them start to redden, and I could swear he licks his lips as he looks at them. He continues by binding my right arm tightly to my torso, and I start to feel the first niggles of panic hit as the ropes tighten around my chest. Perceptive as he is, he stops and looks into my face. “Color?”
“Green, Master,” I choke out.
“Remember, Kimmie, slow and easy breaths. No panting. No breathing through your mouth. Got it?”
“Yes, Master, I do.”
“Good girl.” He goes back to binding and, when he seems to be finished with my torso, he takes the long ropes tied into my bindings and uses them to hoist me upward. When he does, my weight in my torso falls against the ropes and I feel the first constriction. It’s a fight to keep from gasping, and he notices and gives me a look, but I shake my head gently and he goes on.
Once I’m tied upright, he begins binding my lower body. He draws rope around my waist, then between my legs, criss-crossing it directly on top of my introitus. On the second pass through, he pulls the rope between my lower lips and I go wet, and he uses that rope to begin binding my legs. My left leg is bound straight out and then secured in that position by drawing the rope up to one around my waist, but my right leg is bound up and over my back. Then he connects it to my right arm, which he draws behind me and up. As my foot and hand are bound together, my spine arches and my chest presses even harder into the ropes. I struggle to breathe correctly, and he stops and bends down to look into my eyes. “You okay, subbie?”
