Adam & Eden

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  When it was nearly noon, they ate hot-dogs at a street vendor’s stand, hers with ketchup, mustard and relish, Adam’s with mustard only. He downed three, she one. She giggled as she wiped mustard from his mouth and on impulse reached up to kiss his clean lips. Afterwards, she enjoyed the twinkle in his eye—like he knew something that she did not.

  Finally, with all the errands finished, they hopped into Adam’s ancient Ford truck, Eden thinking they would be going home. Instead, he pulled off the road just before the cut-off to the cottage, and drove the winding route for several miles. Stopping, they got out at a worn-down shack of a building that had been painted with 1960’s psychedelic colors in swirls and patterns reminiscent of a acid trip.

  Leading her inside the hovel, the smell of incense greeted her immediately and she stepped back a bit until she got used to the heavy scent. Getting accustomed to the darkly lit room, she discovered it was much less run-down looking from the inside. Perhaps the exterior was just the way the owner wanted his business to look. There were beads and CDs and old vinyl records, posters of flower children and a case of jewelry, dresses, incense and books, the titles Eden didn’t have time to read.

  “She ready for this?” an older man with a long ponytail and a scruffy beard asked. He was introduced as Jack.

  “No. She doesn’t know,” Adam replied.

  “You planning to tell her?” the man asked.

  “I think she’ll like the surprise,” he replied.

  “Good enough.” Jack moved to the back of the shop behind a screen of beads, motioning them to follow.

  Eden’s heart thumped fast. She could think of several things that might happen here. Piercings, a tattoo, or even Adam’s brand—though she thought it too soon for that. This sort of atmosphere suggested it all and her loins raced with excited energy. Would he even tell her before it happened? She decided no.

  “Take off your dress, Eden,” he told her.

  The shop owner was no indifferent sort. He ogled her from start as she removed her one article of clothing. She was much too afraid not to obey the order. For several days now, the thought of the woodshed came to mind as soon as any hint of rebellion might appear in her head. Yet there was truly no rebellion this day. She felt like showing off, not wearing anything at all. A day with normal people made her want to exert her bawdy side, even if it was just for this man, this one very interested man.

  “You’ve got a ripe one here,” the watchful hippie said. “She submissive?”

  “She’s a brat and a hellion, but she’s learning,” Adam replied.

  The remark annoyed her, but she didn’t show her displeasure.

  “I’d love to cane an ass like hers,” he added, as he looked around to see just how plump the target was.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam said, sounding as if he just might take Jack up on the offer. “Bend over,” he changed his focus to Eden.

  Seeing the sturdy bench in front of her, she knew exactly what he meant. Poised over the thigh-high seat, she kept her legs drawn tightly together. She wasn’t sure if Adam wanted her flagrantly lewd for this man, or just available for whatever he was planning to do.

  “Are you going to whip me?” she asked.

  “I probably should for your asking,” he retorted. He didn’t care for her input. “I want the tattoo here,” he said, as he pressed his fingers into a place high on her left ass cheek. “When I’m done with her, I’ll have the same branded here.” She felt his fingers on the opposite side.

  Eden shrieked inside herself. She wanted to be branded, had in fact been surprised that Jacob had never put his mark on her. Still, she was at the same time trembling so much that Adam slapped her ass to calm her.

  “If you’re not careful, I will beat your butt right here just to calm you down,” he cautioned her.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help it,” she whimpered softly.

  He slapped her several times with the palm of his hand.

  “You want more?” he asked.

  When she didn’t answer right away, he continued, giving the man a great show and Eden a burning butt before he finished.

  “Now, you either relax, or I’ll take Jack’s belt and really do you right. You understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she answered quickly.

  “Sometimes a shot of whiskey doesn’t hurt,” Jack said. “Little less painful that way.”

  “Eden doesn’t mind the pain,” Adam replied. “Maybe afterward.”

  “Whatever you say,” he said nodding.

  In the moments that followed, Eden tried to relax, concentrating hard on remaining motionless while the artist worked. She must have been successful, feeling the needles begin to permanently imprint her flesh with Adam’s mark. She tried to drift, to think of nothing, letting the erotic feel of the moment sweep her into a sexy place. The longer Jack worked the more she felt that pleasing arousal. Becoming so enamored with it, the artist had to pause and remind her not to move.

  “Sorry,” she said softly, as she decided to pay more attention to being still.

  It was just a few moments later that he done, a sterile pad pressed over the artwork and she was helped to her feet. She thought Adam would have her dress, but by the look in the other’s man eye, she realized that neither was finished with her.

  “So how submissive is this little bitch?” he asked.

  “She’ll do what I tell her,” Adam replied.

  “And she gets off on pain?”

  “Quite often.”

  “Does she do needles?” he asked. “And clamps?”

  “She’ll take what I give her and not complain,” Adam spoke plainly.

  Eden watched the communication between the men wondering what outcome it would lead to.

  “Sit down on the that stool,” Adam finally ordered.

  “You tie her down?” the other man asked.

  “If you like.”

  As though he was ready for the moment, Jack pulled wrist cuffs from a drawer. Handing them to Adam, they were around her wrists, her arms drawn above her and secured, her breasts becoming the immediate focus of the men’s attention.

  The feel of the first needle going into her flesh stung so she held her breath and closed her eyes. Where it was tender the tiny thing probed her until she began to wince.

  “Breath, love,” Adam ordered, and she tried to relax.

  The second needle was worse yet. The sensation riding piggyback with the other sent a vicious shard of desire deep into her loins. With two needles fused into her skin, left to drift with her breath going in and out of her mouth, the nipple clamps came next. Spring loaded, they were slowly attached to the two smallish buds of flesh. A little more pressure and a little more, she wanted to scream. Instead, two tears trickled down her cheeks … one tear for each needle, one for each clamp, one for each tortured breast. The pain settled just below bearable, her body ripe for plucking from this mix of bizarre distress.

  The tattoo artist knelt between her parted thighs and began to play with her cunt, while Adam knelt behind her, his warm chest against her back. While he reached around to tease her, jiggling the needles and the clamps, the other man was bringing her body to an intense crescendo. She wanted to buck against his hand, but every movement shook the tortured places on her breasts. And then with a third needle, Adam began to pierce her skin once more.

  “Oh, my gawd, no!” she gasped quietly.

  She was lucky he didn’t shove the thing in hard hearing the protest. Instead he whispered. “You want me to stop?”

  More tears tickled down her cheeks.

  “I’ll stop if you ask me to,” he went on and he paused so she could feel the pain subside.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Just as she felt the needle move deeper, the man between her thighs was beginning to raise such an uproar down below that she couldn’t help but cause herself more pain as she jerked hard against him. His fingers pressed inside her open doorway, pulling at her inner labia, pinching the oute
r folds, flicking her clit with a devilish glee. She moaned at every tortured turn and little spasms shot off everywhere in this rollicking divine defilement.

  She was panting. “Ah, yesss.”

  Leaning over her, Adam kissed her neck, then let the needle go free and played with the heavy nipple clamp.

  She jerked harder unable to control the need. The pain became so rich her mind battled for some instant of relief. That instant came when her groin bucked hard, and a quick bright climax began and ended in mere seconds. Another orgasm might have built right away, but both men backed away leaving her pleading with her eyes for more.

  As each clamp came off and the blood returned to the squeezed pinch of flesh, sudden spikes of energy shot through her. New tears steamed down her cheeks and she wanted to collapse in Adam’s arms for the exhaustion. But he was quickly on to other things and she had to recuperate on her own.

  They left the tattoo artist to his aroused dick. Though before Adam allowed her to dress, he took her naked into the woods behind the shop and bent her over the stump of an old tree. Finding her cunt sopping wet and still spasming he took her from behind.

  As her lover moved inside her wet home, crows cawed above and a fly buzzed her hair and the sound of a bee made her wonder if she’d be stung. To those annoyances however was added the sweet feel of Adam’s hands loving her ass tenderly. He combed the fleshy cheeks—all but the fresh tattoo—and she reveled in the joy of that affection, another offering of himself that spoke volumes of the man she surrendered to. Unlike the trips over the woodpile when Adam’s rough-cut logs scratched her skin, the feel of this rough timber was as much an aphrodisiac as his fondling hands. Though his thighs banged hard against her and his cock thrust deep and his hands became more rude with each passionate wave of pleasure, she was glad to satisfy him so thoroughly. There was some added joy being fucked in this not-so-private element between civilization and the wilds. In the back of her mind, she almost hoped someone would stumble on them and witness their show. Perhaps the tattoo artist had, but Eden was too occupied to notice.

  When Adam climaxed he held her tight to him and pinched both nipples between his fingers as though that simple, yet torturous gesture, fed him more stuff to make it a cum worth remembering.

  She was exhausted afterwards collapsing against the tree trunk happily spent.

  “Perhaps I should switch you with a birch branch right here,” Adam said, as he was putting his cock back in his pants.

  “And why do that?” she looked up at him limply, finally coming to her feet.

  “Because I’d love to see the stripes,” he replied.

  “If you must,” she answered him. She was almost in tears, worried that she couldn’t handle any more in one brief hour.

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s just a thought, and a pleasant one I’ll consider for another day. Right now you look too tired for much of anything but sleep. I think I’ll take you home.”

  Adam made her ride home naked. With the windows wide open in his aging truck, the feel of the air on her sweaty skin almost made her cum again. Her mind drifted aimlessly for the ten minute ride until they finally pulled up to the cottage. Stopping with a sudden lurch, she woke with a jerk from her hushed mood.

  “I don’t think you need the dress at all, do you?” he said as he grabbed the yellow piece of cloth beside him.

  “I guess not,” she answered as if it wasn’t necessary to ever wear clothes again. Waltzing lazily toward the cottage’s front door she stared back to see Adam watching her intently.

  “Perhaps you should take a look at your ass,” he said. He turned to remove his purchases from the back of the truck.

  Reminded that she was tattooed not even an hour before, Eden raced up the stairs to her bath and had her first look at Adam’s mark on her behind.

  ***

  “So, what did you think of my choice?” Adam asked her. They were having dinner on the summer patio. Her first response to his question was a puzzled look. “The tattoo,” he added.

  “Ah, yes,” she smiled. “I’m feeling …” she stopped, thinking her sentiments silly.

  “What? Tell me.” He was acting very amiable but he wasn’t in the mood for games—then again he never was.

  “Owned,” she answered.

  “Well you are,” he replied simply.

  He went on to eat his vegetable pasta, while she dabbled with hers and thought of all the other things she might have said in response to the “AC” that now appeared high on her left ass cheek. It was a small tattoo, green vines intertwining to create his initials.

  “You’re going to brand me too?” she asked.

  “I might,” he replied. “But then that’s really not for you to know, is it?”

  “No,” she said. She was dying to know his plans and even willing to be a little pissy to find out, but she decided against that, not ready to face the woodshed if she upset him. “Did you brand Leanna?” she asked him instead. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she hastened to add.

  “Yes, I did, on her thigh,” he answered.

  He seemed to appreciate the question, not resent it. The knowledge that her predecessor had been branded sent a shock of arousal through her. She wanted at least as much from Adam as he’d given to her. But unused to jealousy, this green vile passionate envy was not a pretty sight in her mind. The only way she could better herself against this dead phantom was to be a better submissive than Leanna had been.

  “Would it bother you to tell me about her?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” he said, though he looked a little surprised by the question. “What do you want to know?”

  She hadn’t counted on such an open invitation. “I guess mostly what she was like, and then, what you were like together.”

  “Tell me first why you’re interested.”

  “I want to know you better,” she said.

  “And that’s all your motivation?”

  “I don’t know what else there’d be,” she answered him, knowing full well she might have said much more.

  “I met Leanna as I met you, as an attorney. I suppose the similarity between you two ends there. She was a business executive not an artist. She had brunette hair that reached to her waist—though she most often wore it piled on her head in some way I could never figure. I loved it when she wore it down, when she was naked and it trailed down her back. She was tall, slender, a stately, elegant and forceful woman who needed to be utterly controlled when she “went off”. That was her term for not working. She required a very clear demarcation between one life and the other. When she “went off” she was with me surrendering to my needs. With a driving need to be forcefully even ruthlessly contained I thought she was a bottomless pit of self abnegation.

  “Leanna needed me to cleanse her soul of the tough bitch she was in her working world. I was the one place where she was nothing, totally vulnerable and stripped of everything.” Adam stopped for a moment and looked into Eden’s eyes with one’s that gleamed darkly.

  “I think everyone needs that place,” she said quietly.

  “Some get there by brutality and force, you get there because it’s naturally who you are.”

  “But are we really so different when we’re there?” she wondered.

  “Perhaps not, but I do treat you differently. When I had her bare and naked, groveling humiliated in front of me, I could see desperate fires in her eyes.” He was seeing them at that moment drawn back into the dead woman’s dramas. “She fought me with her hard-as-nails persona, a smirk on her lips, rebellion just an instant away. Almost like she was mocking me, defying me to be what she needed. What she wanted was to know that I was stronger than she was and that she couldn’t control me. It took time to put her in her place. A few times it required humiliating her to the point she was ready to fly at me. She never did though … I would have walked away from her if she had and that would have been devastating.

  “What kind of humiliation made her angry?” Eden
asked.

  He smirked. “We had a dinner party with a few guests, friends of ours, mostly from Leanna’s business. They had hints of her submissiveness with me. Though I think she spoke of it as an occasional dalliance not a way of life. When the conversation turned to sex, there were a few snickers about whips and bondage. Leanna was talking about it as though she wasn’t really attached to her acts of surrender, remaining detached and pompous. I suddenly informed our guests that Leanna was my sex slave and she’d do anything I wanted. At first she seemed intrigued, even a little proud of herself that I’d say that so bluntly in front of them. But then I told her to show them what I meant. She looked at me oddly. I remember how her hair was down, one of the few times, floating about her face. She should have looked soft and natural, but she’d had a bad week. I told her to put her collar on and one of her chains. She was shocked, even embarrassed, but once she was used to the idea, she made it a game. She left the room and when she returned the collar was in place and she sat at my feet. Her friends were quite taken with her, but she remained so haughty I couldn’t let the matter rest with that performance.

  “I ordered her to crawl for her leash—which meant another trip to the other room. When she returned with the leash in hand, I told her to bring it to me in her mouth. She obeyed, glowering at me nastily. Still a game, I took it to its logical conclusion. If I let her get away with that much arrogance then she’d always have the power to win over me.”

  His eyes looked intently at Eden though his mind was in the past with Leanna. “I made her kneel for me and attached the leash to her collar then drew it up between her legs attaching it to the other side. Having her bend over, I fastened the collar to a bolt on the floor. If you were to look, there’s one embedded in the carpet in front of my chair.” Eden hadn’t noticed. “With her arms drawn and manacled behind her, I raised the bottom of her skimpy dress and showed her guests what was left that they hadn’t seen. Then I spanked her ass and pussy with my hand until it was too hot to continue. Finding a leather slapper just a short reach away, I continued until she was crying for me to stop. That took some time since it takes time to kill haughtiness like hers. When I was finished with her, I led her to the corner, where she sat submissively bound for the remainder of the evening. For just that moment, her arrogance died.