Just Curious Ch. 07

As he promised, I'm not allowed to cum. I get close over and over, but he never lets the dam break. I forget the windows and the people who could be watching. I don't care that he made me sit like a dog for breakfast. It doesn't matter that my ass is bruised. I haven't seen it yet, so I don't know how bad it really is. I know it hurts, but that doesn't matter now either. Just his mouth and the magical fingers playing my body like a master musician. "Please."

Marcus stands and kisses me, my body disoriented from the sudden loss of stimulation. "Damn girl, feel how hard I am." He presses himself into my backside. "Now, my little minx, you're going to take care of this bad boy, aren't you?"

"Yes. Yes, please Marcus. Anything."

He turns me around and pushes me to my knees. "That's the submission I love to hear. Swallow me." With shaking hands I fumble with his pants until I release his long thick cock. Instantly I start sucking and slobbering all over it. His scent overwhelming me, driving me to take more and more of him. Soon his hands are wrapped up in my hair, controlling everything; speed, depth, and length of time. It's hard to fight down my gag reflex, but once I block everything else out and only focus on that thick fleshy shaft plunging into my mouth, it gets easier.

It's hard keeping my hands on my thighs, when wrapping them around the base of his cock would give me some control, but I know he wouldn't want that. I can't disappoint him again. I concentrate on breathing when I can, the spongy texture in my mouth, and the saliva dripping out of my mouth and onto my chest and thighs. Minutes tick by; my stomach is churning from all the gagging I'm trying to hold back. Marcus starts growling above me. His pace picks up and the thrusts become more forceful. He slams in one last time, holding himself down my throat as I feel it start twitching.

The first blast goes right down my throat. I feel it sliding down. He pulls out a bit and the second and third blasts are directly into my mouth. The last few spurts he deposits on my face, thumping his cock against my lips and cheeks. I stay kneeling, hands on my thighs, cum dropping down to join the spit on my chest and thighs.

"Fuck, girl. I could do that all day. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful." He leans back and slips his cock back in his pants, leaving me kneeling in front of the large windows. I know I came just before dinner, but that seems like an eternity ago. My core is tingling and twitching, and I can't get it to stop.

"Please Marcus. Please may I cum now. Please." I can barely stay upright, my breathing in short sharp pants.

"No baby girl. You can't cum. You will cum when it pleases me. You have to be mine. You can cum when you're mine, and only when you're mine. No more bullshit. I will break you. I will have you. Stop resisting. Let yourself go. Let yourself be mine."

I make a low whimpering groan; my body collapses forward until my forehead is resting on the floor. I can't do this. I can't do this. Marcus soothes me by rubbing a hand up and down my back, slowly drawing my focus toward him; always toward him. "I can't do this. Please?"

"Don't say that, little girl. You can. I know you can. I've seen you. You have surprised me so many times. Remember what you felt on Freemont Street. What you felt pressing your face against the building to receive your punishment. Remember the canyon, what you felt when you were posing for my camera. Remember the brothel, when you offered yourself to me. That is who you are. Don't fight it. Don't fight me. Let go and I will make you so happy. Let go, little one. Let go."

"I'm scared. Please." Marcus lifts me up off the floor and into his lap. He holds me and rocks me gently.

"Do you want to go home?" His voice is so soft, like saying it any louder would make it happen.

Do I want to go home? Those six little words send my mind reeling. I would love to go to a safe, comfy home. But that's not my home anymore. My home is the place where nightmares plague me. Panic, falling, spinning, out of control, never-ending. My home has become the place where I cry myself to sleep. Where confusion reigns. Who am I? What am I? What's wrong with me? I don't have a safe home anymore. Marcus is supposed to help me get it back. "No. No I don't want to go home. I can't."

Marcus lifts me off his lap and wraps his arms around me. I feel safe here. My arms wrap around him, but my fingertips barely touch. My head is resting on his shoulder. We sit like this for a long time. Holding each other and whispering in each others ears. We talk about feelings, and expectations. We talk about punishments and rewards. We talk about psychology, morals, and values. He helps me sort out my emotions and confusion. He calms me and comforts me. He makes me feel safe and valued.

When we're done, he sits me back in the kneel position and heads for his bedroom. He comes out with new clothes on; I think I got the other ones dirty when he hugged me. He returns and goes into the kitchen and brings a rectangular bucket with a long handled sponge and squeegee and places it in front of me. He sits back on the sofa and directs me on how to clean the windows. All eight of them. I'm done thinking for the night, my brain hurts. I do as he asks. When I'm done he takes the bucket away and I wait in the living room. He returns and looks me over. "We're done for the night; we're just going to watch some movies. Did you want to get cleaned up before we settle in?"

"Yes, thank you Marcus."

"Do you want another pair of panties?"

"No. Thank you." I just stare at the carpet. The carpet is safe, boring.

Marcus isn't having any of that. He lifts my chin so I have to look at him. "Why not? It's your reward."

"I don't want you to be mad at me anymore. It's not worth it."

"You think I'm angry with you?" I nod my head yes. "When I'm mad, you will know. I guarantee that. Tonight I was being 'firm' with you. You are breaking the rules; I need to correct that behavior. You were such a good girl today, both at my brothel and the spa. Why did that change when I got you home? You take things without even asking; without begging. I tell you to stand in front of tinted windows, three stories up and you balk at that, but you have no problem allowing yourself to be tied up in the lobby of a brothel in front of real people. Why? Why are you fighting me?"

"I don't know." He doesn't understand. I don't know. I just don't know.

"Tell me why." His voice is getting close to the command voice. His fingers shake my chin for emphasis. "Tell me."

I jerk my face out of his grasp. I'm almost shouting now. "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." I take a step back, trying to put some distance between us. That was the wrong thing to do. Marcus moves the instant I do. He grabs one wrist and the other hand grabs a handful of hair.

"Answer me!" His voice is dark and deadly. His grip on my wrist is firm, but not painful.

"I don't know." I'm still shouting. "I don't know." I struggle for a while, but I can't break free. I settle for sinking down to the floor and crying. Marcus changes tactics immediately. He holds me and comforts me until I stop crying. He helps me up and gets me into the shower. He watches over me as I scrub the dried cum off my face and chest. He dries me when I step out of the shower. Then he leads me to his bedroom. I follow along silently. He rifles through my travel bag and pulls out a pair of silk panties. He moves toward me, and I instinctively step back. "Shhh baby girl. Don't be afraid. Come to me. Come on. Come back."

After a moment's hesitation, I step back to where I was before. Marcus kneels down and slips the panties around one foot, then the other. He slowly raises them along my leg until they are snuggly fit into place. He rubs a thumb along the fabric covering my clit. He rubs it up and down, cooing at me and telling me I'm a good girl. I can't help it; soon I'm rocking back and forth along with his motions. "If you're a good girl the rest of the night, I won't bring this up again. We can just relax tonight. But tomorrow I'm going to keep trying to get an answer out of you. You will answer me." He stops fingering me and stands up. He pulls my chin up until I'm looking in his eyes. "You will answer me. Understand?"

"Yes Marcus. I understand." He pulls me into his chest and holds me. I just breathe in his scent. Everything else just falls away. He breaks the hug and leans down to kiss me. It's slow and possessive. When he's done, he leads me back to the living room, stopping to grab two bottles of water first.

He shows me a thumb drive before he plugs it into the box below the TV. He comes back and sits down on the sofa and has me kneel between his legs. My first instinct is to refuse, but I'm mentally exhausted, so I sink down between his legs.

He pets my hair as he turns the TV on. Gently tugging my hair until I look up at the screen. My jaw drops. It's me! On the TV. I'm in the white dress I wore the first day. I'm standing looking out the windows of this condo. I turn to double-check the large windows, but Marcus guides my eyes back to the TV.

The dress is shorter than I normally wear, my legs look so long. The bright afternoon light casts a small halo around my form, outlining my body beneath the dress, but not enough to distort the image. My legs are slightly offset, one in front of the other. I'm leaning forward just a bit, flaring out my hips. My face is calm and serene, looking down on all the unknown tourist below. I avoided it as long as I could, but my eyes are forced to recognize the most prominent feature of the photo; my nipples. They are standing up proudly against the sheer fabric of the white sundress. Proud and unashamed, they call out, demanding scrutiny.

Unbidden, my hand caresses one of my nipples. Marcus must have seen, for he immediately starts working the other nipple. His chin resting on the top of my head. "That's the first picture after you gave yourself to me. Look how calm she is. How proud she is to belong to someone. Her body knows what it wants. Her nipples are testament to that. She belongs to me." He pinches the bud that has hardened in his hand. Gasping, I arch into the pain, my eyes never leaving the TV.

The pain subsides as he clicks the controller and the next picture appears. It's me in the canyon, when we went kayaking. I'm naked, sitting on a rock. My pale skin looks almost white against the reds and oranges swirling on the canyon wall behind me. My eyes are on the camera, a slight mischievous smile crosses my lips. My legs are spread wide, exposing everything to the camera. My arms frame my face, held up straight above my head, with my hands hidden outside the cameras frame. My breasts are full and prominent, the center piece of the photo. The large areolas, soft and flush with the peaks; only a small prominence protruding from the summit.

Marcus presses his front against my back, leaning forward, his hand rubbing the inside of my thigh. "Look at her: proud, uninhibited, owned." He wraps his other hand across my throat. "Her legs splayed open for my pleasure. See the moisture pooling in her cunt? That soft, pink pussy declaring itself as my property. Telling me she's ready to be used."

His hand runs higher up on my thigh, until it encounters my damp panties. "Jesus fucking Christ! I hate these damn things." He starts pulling on them and for some reason I find this hilarious. I'm giggling as Marcus tries ripping them off me again. With the hand on my throat, he turns my head so he can look at me. "You think that's funny? Huh, little girl."

I can't answer, I just keep giggling. "God, you're such a brat. No more rewards for you ever again! You are gorgeous when you laugh, though." I get a quick kiss. Surprisingly, my panties remain intact.

The next picture silences me immediately. It's the playroom. I'm kneeling on the cold hard table. A metallic blue dildo held sideways in my mouth. My arms held behind my back by brightly colored rope. My knees tied to the edge of the table. My ass is bright red. In the mirrors in front of the TV me, I can see multiple reflections of my engorged, dark red breasts. The darkness of the room contrasts against the colored rope, the shocking blue vibrator, and my pale flesh.

It doesn't seem real, except for my face looking back at me. The camera is behind me, but I'm turning my head to look directly at it. My eyes begging to be fucked. "I've wanted to fuck you since I first met you. You slip into submission so easily; it's hard to think of anything else but absolute control over you. It drives the animal instinct in me to dominate you completely. To use you fully for my every pleasure. To hear you scream. To hear you beg. It's what you were born for." The dark words cause my body to quiver. My pussy dampening my panties.

We go through picture after picture. Freemont Street, the dress shop, the condo, the brothel, kayaking, the playroom. Some I'm clothed, some I'm not, and some are in-between. In all of them, Marcus points out my submission. How natural it is for me. The serenity or desire evident across my face and in my eyes. His hands play over my flesh, and I press into them, silently begging for more. Poses I would be shocked to just look at in normal situations, now I find I'm the one posing; exposing my body and soul to this man.

We finish the photos and sit in silence for a few minutes. He doesn't pressure me, just lets me sit and be. My body is on fire. The eroticism of the photos combined with Marcus's hands all over me drove me to the edge. I think I could cum right now if Marcus commanded it.

"Can you stand?" I nod my head yes. I'm not even sure if I can, but it was easier to answer with a nod. He helps me up. I'm a bit wobbly, but I'm standing. "You OK?"

"I'm horny." I scowl up at him as he laughs, that just makes him laugh harder. Stupid men. "Will you let me cum now?"

"No, not tonight. I need you to learn to focus on me. But I do have the next best thing." He makes me wait as I keep looking up at him. "Laundry! Time to make your bed." I bonk my head against his chest a few times.

Laundry is switched around, cleaning supplies return to the cabinets, plants are watered, and together we make my bed before returning to the living room for some movies. I get to pick the first movie, and since he's never seen it before, I pick 'Red' with Bruce Willis and John Malkovich. Marcus lies on the sofa and I take my usual position on top of him. His hand slips down to my ass and he grumbles about my panties again, making me giggle. I get a small spank for that, but it was more playful than anything else.

After the movie ends, we switch the laundry, make Marcus's bed, and get two more waters from the kitchen. Marcus grabs the hummus, veggies, and olives as we settle down to watch the next movie; 'American Hustle' with Christian Bale and Amy Adams. Marcus is feeding me again, but he's doing a crappy job of it. He does OK with the hummus and veggies, but he keeps poking me in the eye or the nose with the olives. Every time I see one coming at me I have to go get it with my mouth. The rest of the night goes by without further incident. Or sex.

Marcus has to wake me up when the movie is over. "You look tired. Do you want to go to bed, or watch another movie?"

"Whatever you prefer. I could sleep here or in the bed."

"That is a wonderful, and very submissive, answer. Good girl. Time for bed. Up you go."

He helps me off the sofa and leads me to my bedroom. He lets me use the bathroom then tucks me in bed. He pulls a pair of cuffs out of the nightstand and clips them to the headboard. Holding the cuffs, he just looks down at me until I offer him my wrists. With the cuffs secured, he turns on the baby monitor thing, and wishes me good night. At the door, he turns out the light, and looks back at me. "No touching yourself, little girl. You are mine. Don't forget that." I watch in silence as he turns and leaves my bedroom.

********* Chapter 8 (Tuesday)

Something is catching my attention, pulling me out of slumber. I recognize that I'm lying on my stomach; I must have rolled over sometime during the night. I hate sleeping on my stomach. I try to roll over, but I can't get my arms down. It takes another half second to remember my wrists are cuffed to the headboard. Someone is working on the cuffs. It must be Marcus.

My wrists are finally released. My eyes slowly open as I start to shift position. It's only been a few seconds since I was sleeping soundly. I feel happy. The warm comfy blanket is stripped off me. Firm hands are on my shoulders and waist. Suddenly I'm pulled off the bed and dropped on the floor. What the fuck! I try to move, but Marcus grabs my hair and forces me to stay down. "Don't even fucking think about it."

The deep, powerful, angry voice stops me. I hold my breath and wait. I have no clue what's going on. He pulls my hair so I'm looking up at him. He looks livid. "Kneel."

I twist so I can get into position, not daring to challenge him until I figure out what's wrong. I'm kneeling; legs spread wide, staring up at him with pleading eyes, hair still caught in Marcus's hand. We stay like this in total silence for about a minute, but it seems like an eternity to me. "If you fucking move, we are done. Do you understand? Done!" He pushes my head forward before releasing me, then storms out of the room.

*****

Wasn't it nice of me to add that little preview?

Luvs ya. The next chapter might be a day or two late, I'm having company over next weekend.

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