Date Night Ch. 01

He walked into the house, and I could see on his face that he wasn't pleased. "Everything ok?" I asked, and he shook his head curtly. I shut up. Not a good thing to talk when his temper was ignited.

I watched him throw his keys and backpack on the table, pull out a soda, and take a few huge gulps before putting the cold can to his forehead. There was a glowering silence behind his movements, like barely restrained rage, and I wondered why he had bothered to keep our date if he was in such an obviously foul mood.

He dropped into the recliner with his eyes closed, toeing off his shoes, and became very still. Five minutes went by, ten minutes... he didn't move. I had gone back to my bookkeeping, glancing over to look at him every few minutes. Something was going on. I filed my charts, put the laptop to sleep, and went to crouch by the recliner. No motion.

"Hey. What's going on?" I asked, in as non-confrontational a tone as I could muster.

Silence. Just as I was taking a breath to ask again, he said "Pull your hair back." It took me a moment to register and I'm sure if his eyes had been open, he would have laughed at the confused look on my face. As it was, he opened one eye after a few seconds and added "You aren't going to want me to do it for you today." His eye closed.

My mouth went dry as that spark ignited and I took the tie off my wrist and made a ponytail from my long, dark, chestnut curls. "Good girl," he said without looking, and handed me his soda. I put it on the coffee table, my hands starting to tremble. I'd never seen him in a mood like this.

His hand shot out and gripped my ponytail, making me jump, but he just held my head there comfortably, his fingers tangling themselves as he looked at me for the first time. "How was your day?"

I had to clear my throat and lick my lips before I could answer. "Fine, just fine. Got a lot done. Files, you know..." I trailed off, weakly. "How about you?" I winced.

"Not going to talk about it. Don't ask again." I nodded, feeling the pressure of his hand in my hair. He looked down at my bare legs and feet and for the first time, I saw that familiar hunger, only this seemed to have a fierceness to it that I hadn't seen before. I felt a throbbing at my core and we both watched as he shifted his weight in the recliner to put his other hand on my leg. "Are you wearing something under that skirt?" I nodded. "Off."

My face turned pink, but I stood up and reached under my skirt to pull off my panties. "Slowly," he warned, and I met his eyes as I slid them down my legs to the floor. That penetrating gaze set the butterflies alight in my stomach as he motioned me to kneel in front of him. He drew me in for a light kiss, completely inappropriate to his mood, and then reached for my ponytail again.

"Pull out my cock and get rid of some of this frustration for me, won't you?" I eagerly unzipped his fly and pulled him out, long and hot and hard already. As I leaned in to wrap my lips around him, I felt my hair go taut in his hands. I tried again, but his grip on my hair wouldn't allow me close enough to take him in.

"Come on..." I said, and his other hand shot out to grab my breast, hard. I gasped.

"I'm not in the mood for whining from you today. I told you what to do; now do it." I swallowed heavily and leaned in again, struggling against the grip he had on my hair. I pulled, he pulled, and I started to get wet from the struggle. His eyes gleamed darkly when I glanced up to try and figure out what he was doing, and he suddenly pushed me forward, impaling my throat. I gagged and sputtered, and he held me on for one second, two seconds, as I pushed against him and struggled to catch my breath around the dick deep in my throat.

He pulled me off, gasping for air, then kissed me sweetly on the forehead and brushed away the water from my eyes. One hand plunged down the front of my low-cut shirt to play with my nipples. "Thank you for wearing an easy access shirt. It means I won't have to take everything off quite yet." He stood up and pulled me back onto his cock, this time allowing me room to move and breathe.

I worked my magic on him, moving my hands and mouth up and down, licking, tasting, enjoying the feel of something hard and hot in my mouth. Tugging at his balls, I found them already taut with his pent-up orgasm. As he came closer and his moans intensified, I slowed the pace, challenging myself to take him deeper.

His hands had moved to either side of my face and his breathing became ragged. He was close, and I smiled to myself. "You going to tell me what put you in such a pissy mood?" I challenged with a smirk, blatantly disobeying him right at his moment of greatest pleasure.

Before I could inhale, his hands tightened on my head and forced me towards him, once again shoving his cock as far down my throat as he could. I thought he would stop and reprimand me, but he continued ramming his cock down my throat, face-fucking me as hard as he could. Just as I was seeing spots in my vision, he came, hard, holding himself to the back of my throat as I frantically swallowed. When he was spent, he slumped back on the recliner while I coughed and gasped between his knees.

"I told you we weren't talking about my day," he said tiredly. "Get my box." He put himself back together while I slowly got up, working the kinks out of my jaw. I went into my bedroom and pulled out the black box that held... what, I had no idea. He had given it to me when our relationship first began, giving me instructions to never open it, as he would know. I had always been tempted to, but I believed with absolute certainty that he would know I had opened it, so I didn't. There always seemed to be something different coming out of the box, though I never saw him replenish it.

I handed him the box apprehensively. This was always a big unknown, always thrilling, though it always meant pain. That was his favorite aphrodisiac. And in his current mood? I rubbed my jaw as he opened the box, setting it so that I couldn't see inside. He pulled out a handful of wooden clothespins and closed the lid, lining the pins up on the table in front of him. My pussy throbbed.

Silently, he motioned for me to kneel in front of him again, and he reached into my shirt, pulling out a full breast. He massaged it lightly with his hand, picked up a pin, and with a quick pinch, positioned the pin just outside my nipple. I enjoyed the first pinch of pain and then the slow crescendo, building up to a steady throb. He placed two more, and then surveyed his handiwork. I looked curiously at him, as he had positioned the pins flat with my chest instead of sticking out. He smiled at me, but I didn't dare ask him why.

He repeated the process with my other breast, and my first was beginning to throb noticeably. Smiling and much more relaxed, he pulled my shirt back up, hiding his work. His hands traveled low, down my leg, and lifted up my skirt just enough to get underneath. A sound of pleasure, a low purr, signaled that he had found me wet and ready, and though my breasts were beginning to hurt, I moaned as he dipped his fingers easily in and out of me.

"Very nice..." he said. My eyes were closed, enjoying the sensation, so I didn't see him take a clothespin and pin it to my labia until I felt it. I gasped - this one hurt - and winced at him. "Oh, that bothers you?" he teased, "Maybe your smart mouth finally brought you something a little less... pleasurable." He clipped another one on the other side and removed his fingers.

Without his fingers in me, the clips just hurt. I made sure not to move, but my displeasure registered on my face. He smiled at me, an edge in his look. "Stand up." I did, moving gingerly. My cunt and breasts were on fire, and my legs kept hitting the clothespins under my skirt.

He sat back in the recliner. "I'm hungry and you should eat too. You're going to get us something to eat, and when you get back, I'll take off the pins. Not before. Should any of them come off while you're gone, I'll find an even more tender place to put it."

My jaw dropped. I was already hurting and getting food would take 20 minutes if I moved as quickly as I could. Worse, I would be in public when I couldn't hide my discomfort. "That's not fair," I said, and his smile grew larger.

"No, it's not. I suggest you go before one of them comes off. And move carefully." He picked up his soda can and sat back in his recliner, pleased and relaxed.

I went to get food.