wards Ch. 06

Ch 6 A Veritable Free-For-All

It turns out, the departure of Jess from his life, does wonders for me. Now, we have so much more freedom, so much more time. Now that I've given in, I'm all in. We are fucking like animals every chance that we get. I'm fucking him and he's fucking me. I wake every morning with a single, dominating thought:

When will I see him?

Everything else in my life fades into the background. It's not that I neglect Liza, it's just that she's so busy with work, and she's so independent, she doesn't really need me. Definitely not the way he needs me. He needs me a lot. He needs me, the same way I need him.

It's just that now, his body, truly is all I think about. I want it. I crave it. Even more than I did before. Now, when I've had him, or he's had me, I'm completely and utterly spent. Now, on days when I've seen him, I sleep. A dead, dreamless sleep.

I have no way of knowing that in a short while, I'll find it hard to believe these days ever existed. No, right now, a small, idiotic part of me, believes these glory days won't ever end.

In this spirit, I head over to his house. It's a Sunday morning, we were planning on going for a run, but when he opens the door, I see immediately that there's been a big change in plan. He swings the door open, leaning one arm up against the door frame. His hair is unruly. Perfectly unkempt. He's shirtless and he's wearing grey sweatpants, which ride low on his hips, clearly exposing that V that runs all the way down...

I draw a sharp breath.

Bloody hell, that's some 'Hello'.

"Kip and Ben are out." He says, by way of a greeting.

I raise a brow. "Is that a fact?" I say slowly, eyeing him up and down.

"Still want to go for that run?" He asks.

I'm already half-way in through the door, "Fuck, no."

We get to his room. We've been here before, but not often. We're usually at my place. It feels a little strange to be here, especially in broad daylight. Something about him feels a little strange, too. There's a look on his face that I don't know, one I'm not sure if I've seen before. He's watching me. Not pouncing right away, like he normally would. He's been teasing me for a few days. Using threatening words and inuendo. I know it's his turn to make a move, so I wait for it.

Despite the tension, I wait.

I'm standing in the middle of his room, near the bed. He paces slowly around me. He's eyeing me up and down, looking at me like I'm meat.

Wait for it, I tell myself, but it's getting harder. I'm getting harder.

"Want to play?" He says at last.

"Fuck, yeah." I say quickly.

He turns to his dresser, opening the bottom drawer, getting something out. I feel my eyes widen when I see what's in his hand.

"I mean, do you want to play?" He says softly, tossing a couple of bundled lengths of rope on the bed.

My stomach contracts and my heart starts to pound. I don't move a muscle as he takes out a black, leather flogger and tosses it on the bed along with the rope.

He looks at me intently. Waiting.

"Yes." I say, looking him right in the eye, not thinking it through for a second.

Maybe's it's the fact that I know from Liza, he used to do this with Jess, and God knows, I'm fiercely competitive. I don't want there to be anything he wants, that he doesn't get from me. I want to be the best he's ever had. Or, maybe it's the fact that if you delve down deep enough, you'll find this exact type of thing, hidden in my sordid, browser history. Probably though, it's simply the fact that he's the one offering, and when it comes to him, it's already been well established...I want it.

"Take off your sweater." He says, his voice soft, yet strangely compelling. I obey at once.

"Those too." He says, motioning to my waist. I pull down my pants, as quickly as I can, kicking off my running shoes and stepping out of them, standing there in nothing but my boxers now.

"You done this before?" He asks. He knows the answer, but I shake my head anyway. No.

"Okay," he says, chuckling a little, "I'll go easy on you."

His words instantly remind me of the first time he fucked me, that, "I'll be gentle," he said, that damned nearly undid me. These words do exactly the same thing. Thick, hot desire wakes and raises its head, deep inside me.

He runs the palms of his hands up my torso, up my sides, down my arms, warming me, setting me alight, as he starts to tie.

He winds the rope around me quickly and with considerable skill. I can't lie, the fact that he knows what he's doing, is proving to be a very big turn-on. He works the rope around the top of each of my thighs, across my back and my chest, forming a harness of sorts. I stand still, completely motionless, as he does it. Enjoying the tension, the slight sting, as he pulls the rope tight. Enjoying the sensation, of his hands on my skin, as he guides the rope into place. But mostly, I'm surprised to find, I enjoy the feeling of being completely, securely, contained.

Finally, he pulls my wrists back, behind my back, making me bend my elbows and grab my forearm in each hand, before securing me like this.

He shows me a strange pair of scissors, "If you don't like it, you can tell me," he murmurs, "I'll have you out in a minute."

I nod, but I already know, he won't be using those scissors today.

Next, he shows me a blindfold, waiting until I nod, before pulling it on, over my eyes. This is no pretend blindfold. Once it's on, the light's gone completely. Darkness descends, and I find myself in pitch blackness.

My breathing has slowed, though my heart rate is steadily rising. He's not moving, or touching me, but I can feel him to my right.

He grabs my arm suddenly and spins me a little, forcing me to take a few tentative steps in a circle, as I try to right myself.

He waits.

Then, he reaches for me again, spinning me harder this time, once, twice, I quickly loose count. Now, when I steady myself, I'm dizzy, I don't know where the bed is and I'm not sure where he is either.

I don't hear him moving, but he must, because I'm suddenly aware of the first strains of music, playing softly at first, but getting louder quickly. I don't know this song. It has a heavy beat, a strong base. A long introduction, and then a woman's voice. Haunting and mournful.

The sound goes right through me, my heart echoing the beat, as I wait.

I wait. 

The tension is getting unbearable. I need him to touch me. I need him to ground me. I need to know where he is.

Fear grips my heart, as I hear the unmistakable swish of the flogger.

He's close.

I blow a quick breath out of my mouth, as I try to steady myself.

Swish.

That one was closer.

Swish.

That one landed. Across my belly, not hard, but not soft either. Still, it makes me gasp.

Swish, swish. 

Those landed, too. Across my chest, right side, then left. This time, it stings a little and my gasps sound a little bit strangled.

"Arhhhh." I moan loudly.

Those are his hands, warm on my body. Scorching hot. Soothing the skin, he's just set alight.

He spins me again. I'm confused and disoriented.

But I wait.

This time the leather lands on my back. One! Two! Quick across my back and my shoulders. I arch involuntarily, and as I do, he swings back and lands a blow on my ass. Right side and then left.

This time, it lands with a thud. This time, it's hard. Pain rips through me and I cry out loudly.

He chuckles softly.

My body feels hot, I'm gasping for breath, and my heart is beating wildly, erratically. Like a bird of prey, trapped in a small cage. Feathers ruffled. Coming loose, coming apart.

Swish.

He swings the flogger near me, but doesn't make contact. Still, I start, and turn to move away. He quickly flicks it across my belly, softly again. My skin is so sensitive now, every nerve ending is pulsing. My legs are shaking, as I descend even deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Into black nothing. 

My mind is completely still. Tranquil. Perhaps for the first time ever. It's quiet. Silent. Not a single thought from Common Sense, or even The Dreamer. No internal struggle. No competing thoughts. No right and no wrong. No decisions, for me to make. Right now, it's all on him.

Is this peace? I wonder dimly.

He runs his hand up my leg, up my inner thigh. He traces the outline of my dick, through my boxers. I try to not move. This is what I want. I want this and more.

I feel a soft warmth on my cock. Is that his mouth? It's gone as quickly as it arrived. I feel the cold scrape of steel on my belly.

What's that?

He runs his fingertips along my waistband, before pulling it gently away from my body.

I was wrong, he does use those scissors today. He snips quickly, roughly, cutting my underwear off me. Exposing me, as I quiver. I feel more naked than I've ever felt in my entire life, but I do my best to stand still. I don't move at all. I want his hands and his attention, to stay right where they are.

As soon as he's cut the garment off me, he grabs me by the rope across my back and bends me over roughly.

One, two, three, four.

Hard, cracking blows that land on my bare ass with a splat. I cry out, shouting, arching up to get away. As I do, he lands a blow across my chest. Softly now. Then one on my belly, softer, and then one even lower, softer still.

One more.

Even lower.

As the tassels of leather kiss my groin, my dick and my balls, I'm instantly, acutely aware, that right up to this moment, right up to this very precise second, nothing in life has ever truly had my total, undivided attention.

But he does.

He sure as hell does.

Every cell, every atom in my body, is electric. Charged. Focused on nothing but him. He's all that there is this world. He is my world, as I stand there quaking, vibrating.

Waiting.

I can hear my breath rasping and my heart pounding in my ears, but I can't hear him. I can't feel him. The waiting, the tension is cataclysmic now.

I feel something near me and I physically jump. My whole-body tenses, as my feet leave the ground.

An awful, beautiful laugh comes from his belly. He reaches for me again. This time I still, gratefully accepting, whatever he's offering. I'll take pleasure or pain. I'll take anything, simply because he's the one giving it to me.

He wraps his hand around my dick and strokes me. I groan in relief, instantly starting to thrust into his hand. I climb rapidly to the peak, nearing orgasm with shocking speed. I'm nearly there, so close, I can feel my balls contracting. I throw my head back and wait for pleasure to hit, but just before it lands, it's gone.

His hand is gone.

I'm reeling, still thrusting into the air.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" I scream when it hits me.

He's making me wait.

He flogs me some more. Now, I can hardly tell where the blows are landing. I can't tell if they're hard or they're soft. I only know, I cry out when they land, and I moan like a madman, when he alternates and uses his hands, stroking me gently.

I'm shaking so much now, I'm staggering. Even though he holds me up by the rope on my chest, or by the hair on the back of my head, I can't keep standing much longer. He seems to sense this, as he spins me around once more. I'm spinning. I don't know left from right. I don't even know up, from down. As soon as I still, he pushes me forward, sending me flying, lurching, falling, into the dark unknown.

I don't call out, as I fall. I don't feel afraid.

I know that he has me. 

I land softly, my face planted on the bed. He unties my arms, massaging my wrists gently where they were bound, before letting them fall forward, next to my face.

He goes to work on my ass. Using his tongue and then, his fingers. Two and then three. He's never found me more open. I've never been more compliant, than this.

I'm groaning loudly and low. Out of control. So out of control, that when he fucks me, I arch and moan, "Thank you, oooh, God, thank you."

I mean it, too. I'm not even embarrassed. Right now, there is no me, to be embarrassed. Right now, I'm not even sure, if there's him. There's only us, and this thing that we're making.

He fucks me soundly and I don't struggle at all. I hold still and let him take it. Too soon though, he slows.

I groan in protest. By now, I no longer know words.

"Take it," he rasps, "if you want it, you've got to take it."

I moan and my hips jerk, as I do what he says. I press myself back, until I'm full to the hilt, before driving my hips forward. Again, and again, I fuck myself on his cock. I'm wild. Totally wanton.

I regret nothing.

This is magic, whispers The Dreamer.

It's madness! Cries Common Sense, breaking through at long last.

No, it's magic, says The Dreamer again, firmer this time. 

I'm inclined to agree, I think, through the fog. If this isn't magic, then you tell me why, now, for the very first time, when I'm tied down, physically chained, literally bound, you tell me why, for the first time in my life...my soul's flying free. 

"I need to cuuuuuum!" wails My Dick, or maybe, that's me.

He reaches around, stroking me hard, making me tense and convulse. I'm so close, I can hardly stand it.

But I wait.

I wait.

I wait, until I think the waiting will kill me.

Until at last, I hear his voice, harsh in my ear, yelling, "Shoot it!"

And I do. My God, I do. I see stars and planets collide, and then I see nothing. Nothing at all.

All I do now, is feel.

Him.

Me.

Euphoric and rapt.

*

Hours later, I'm home with Lisa. I'm making dinner and she's catching up on some emails. I'm still a little spaced out. I'm finding it hard to stay in the present. My mind keeps drifting to what happened this morning, specifically, to a very distinct look he gave me right after, when he was untying the rope. My skin was wildly oversensitive and I was still trembling. His hands were warm and heavy on my body. Steadying me. Grounding me.

The look he gave me was strange and intense. I haven't seen anything like that from him before.

Maybe it was concern, or maybe he was just checking in, I think, or perhaps, that's just how you look at someone, when you've just taken every ounce of their power, and made them watch, as you held it lightly, in the palm of your hand...

"Ethan," says Liza, startling me, "I think something's burning."

I snap out of it and quickly turn down the heat.

"You okay?" She asks, "You seem a million miles away."

"Sorry," I say quickly, "I'm feeling a little distracted." For once, I speak the truth, though obviously, my words still contain a horrible lie of omission.

"Soooo," she says, "I've been thinking about us. About our living arrangement."

Uh oh.

"What about it?" I say, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Well, my lease expires in five months, and I think we should talk about what we want to do when it's up."

"Sure." I say, reaching up and loosening my collar ever so slightly.

"I think, maybe it's time to think about moving in together."

"Sounds good," I say, sounding a little stiff, "but it's still a long way away. Why don't we table the conversation for now?"

She looks up at me quickly, studying my face. She doesn't look very well pleased.

"Ethan," she says a little more sharply than usual, using her work voice, "are we still aligned?"

"Yes," I say quickly, reaching for her, pulling her into my arms, "of course we are, Li."

Of course, we are.

That night, even after everything that happened at Oliver's, earlier in the day, I don't find myself sleeping particularly well.

*

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