Just Curious Ch. 11

Casey looks at me again, cocking her head to one side as she thinks about it. "That should be do-able. Come on sexy lady, into the chair with ya." I look to Marcus and he nods. So I hop into the chair. Casey wraps a plastic cape over me. Marcus sits in a chair in the corner and checks his phone as Casey starts on my hair.

I'm not facing the mirror, instead I'm facing Marcus, so I have no idea what I look like. Every so often he looks up from his phone, and either nods, or gives Casey some additional directions. I know my hair was teased and primped and pinned up on top my head. And I know Casey is using way more make-up than any normal person would wear.

Finally we're done and Casey removes the cape with a flourish. "Ta Da"

Marcus stands and just stares at me stone-faced. I'm itching to turn around and look in the mirror, but I don't think he wants me to. It's at this moment that Anna walks in. "Good afternoon, sir. How is...Oh my goodness! WOW." That's two 'wows' since I got here, but Marcus hasn't spoken yet.

"Anna dear, how are you? My gratitude to Casey. She did a wonderful job, don't you think?" I don't hear what Anna says next, I only had to hear the Marcus was pleased. He walks up to me and lightly touches my hair, careful not to ruin it.

He whispers in my ear. "Do you want to see my beautiful toy?" I just nod. He turns me around to face the mirror. WOW. My legs are longer. My cleavage seems bigger. My hair looks messy and piled up on top my head, making my neck look unnaturally long. Several long strands hang down haphazardly. My lips are painted to match the leather jacket. But my eyes. My eyes have the supermodel paint job. Dark red near the nose and ending in a bright red on my temple. Black eye liner making them pop. Lashes are long and thick.

Marcus stands behind me and cups my breasts. He whispers darkly in my ear so the other two women can't hear. "Now I really want to fuck you." He squeezes my tits before releasing me. "Thank you, Casey. She's perfect." He goes over and gives the shorter woman a hug. Opening his wallet, he hands some money to Anna and then some extra to Casey.

Marcus and Anna have a short conversation and Casey comes over to me. She looks me over bottom to top again, fixes a few strands of hair. She leans in and whispers in my ear. "You look kick-ass. Whatever he has planned, go out and enjoy it." Her eyes are full of mischief, I like this lady.

We're still smiling at each other when Marcus turns back to us. "What are you two conspiring about?"

Casey pipes up before I can. "Nothin'. Nothin' at all." The way she drawls out the words leaves no doubt that she was up to something. I can't help but laugh. Marcus turns and scowls at me. He's not mad, but I like seeing Casey push his buttons, just a little. He rolls his eyes before leading me out the same door we came in.

"Wait. Wait. Wait." Casey comes running and puts a poofy black plastic bonnet over my hair. "Don't want the wind to mess it up. When your inside, stretch the plastic and lift straight up." She demonstrates and Marcus nods that he understands. "Good luck." That last part wasn't for Marcus and the hair bonnet. That was for me. For whatever happens next.

We drive around Vegas to the other side of town. I'm still fascinated by the alien desert landscapes. I'm so used to tall trees, manicured lawns, and flowers popping up everywhere. This looks so desolate by comparison, but it has its own beauty. We drive to a factory district. Lots of long plain buildings and tall chain linked fences.

He pulls in front of the fence of one plain building and enters a code on a touchpad. The oppressive heat washes over me as leans out the open window. The gates open. He reaches into the glove box and pulls out a remote. With one click, the large bay doors slide open, one to each side, like an airport hanger bay. "Close your eyes, little girl."

I close them as the SUV starts to move forward. I feel when the sun is no longer beating down on my arms. We stop and Marcus gets out. I hear the doors start to slide closed. He opens my door and I hear him toss the remote back in the glove box. The smell is musty and mechanical. Every sound echoes, the place must be huge and wide open.

He helps me out, with my eyes still closed. He takes the cap off my hair and adjusts a few stray strands. He helps me to the front of the vehicle. "OK. Open."

I open my eyes. The first thing I see is him, standing in front of me, strong and handsome. Then I see the huge space behind him. Small windows line the top of the two long walls, giving some light to the huge room. There are two rows of columns supporting the roof. The next thing I see is the table. It's huge and solid metal. I would guess it to be 50-60 feet long and about 10-12 feet wide. Thick metal legs are evenly spaced every few feet and bolted to the floor. There's a pully/hoist system set up high above it. Rusty chains hanging down haphazardly.

This is when it starts to get weird. Along the back wall are large 'things', easily 30-40 feet tall. They're really far away and the small windows don't give a lot of light. The first of the things I see are two AT-AT's and an AT-ST. (In the original Star Wars movies, the AT-AT's were the four-legged machines on the ice planet. The AT-ST's were the two-legged ones the Ewoks destroyed.) "You gotta be kidding me! Do they work?"

Marcus chuckles. "No. I'm good, but I'm not that good." I squint, trying to see what else is down there. I see a palm tree, an alligator leaning up against the wall, maybe a mushroom looking something, and Winnie the Pooh. These are just the big things, 20-40 foot. There are littler things scattered around, but they're too far away to see clearly in the dark factory

Marcus gently takes my hand; I had started walking toward the back, trying to get a better look. I take a step back to his side. "Did you make all those?" He nods that he did. I see bins lined up against one wall, random metal sticking out from a few of them. The other wall is a long workbench, enough tools to impress even my father, a proud tool-hoarder in his own right. There are gas canisters and welding gear, a few chicken wire cages, and a massive safe bolted to long iron rails and cemented into the floor.

He waits patiently for my curiosity to play out, so I focus back on him. Even though I'd love to go over there and check everything out. He senses the shift in me. He leads me over to the table and lifts me so I'm sitting on it. He slips my sandals off and tosses them over by the SUV. I can tell he wants to kiss me, but he doesn't want to ruin my makeup. I lean forward and lick his face from chin to nose. I grin, this outfit is making me bold. "Minx! Bad girl." I wiggle my eyebrows at him. He just shakes his head and turns away.

By the work bench he turns on some switches and the A/C starts to kick in, I can feel fans begin to circulate the air. Then the music starts, some energetic pop music coming from speakers hidden along the walls. Lights flicker on near the far end of the table. He pulls a large black camera bag out of the SUV and sorts out his camera and gear. Now the makeup and hair makes more sense. This is a photo shoot.

He comes back to me and helps me stand. Standing on the table I'm finally taller than him. He takes pictures of me at different angles. I can't help but try and tug the outfit down lower. "Fix it once, then forget about it." I take the offer and arrange the outfit as best I can. I take a deep breath and nod. I'm ready for whatever is next.

"Walk slowly to the other end." I turn and start walking. He directs me how to walk to make my hips sway, and how to place my arms to emphasize my cleavage, and how to hold my head to make my neck look longer. He praises me when I do it right. All the time the camera is clicking.

When I get about halfway down the table he tells me to kneel. I drop down to the kneel position. He takes more pictures. He directs me into a few poses, then tells me to make up some of my own. I look at him, confused. "Pose. However you want. Show me what you got."

Hhmmm What would an anime chick do? I arch my back and lean backward, feeling the pull in my thighs. The camera clicks wildly. I raise one hand above my head, the other glides down my neck, over my breast, and across my tummy. I return to the kneel position. Marcus is praising me, so I try another. I close my legs and shift so I'm sitting with my legs folded to the side of me. I place one hand on the table for balance, and the other slides under the leather cupping my own breast. I squeeze it as the camera snaps away. More praise from Marcus.

I do a few more poses before Marcus tells me to move to the end of the table. "Crawl for me. All the way to the end." It starts off as straight legged and blocky, but he instructs me how to move so it looks sensual, almost feline. The camera never stops. I get to the end and he places me in the kneel position again.

He goes over to the huge safe. I watch silently as he opens it and places several boxes on the work table next to it. With the camera hanging from his neck he brings one of the boxes over. He turns it toward me, and opens it slowly. At first I think it's a crown. Delicate silver swirls intertwining with a few red gems here and there. It looks almost elvish, very intricate, very beautiful. Then I see the clasp at the back. It's a collar. I look up to Marcus. He made this.

He takes it gently out of the velvet lined box. "Lean forward for me." I crouch down and let him place the collar on me. I reach up to touch it, but he stops me. "Don't touch." He puts the box down and the pictures start again. He poses me a few different ways. The collar is removed, returned to the box, and he goes to get another one. Collar after collar he affixes to me. Some delicate metal works of art. Some are supple leather ones with intricate designs and rings for attaching chains to it. Pictures are taken with me standing, sitting, or lying as he directs me.

He goes back to get his bag, and changes out the memory card in the camera. When he's ready he tells me to remove the leather dress. The camera snaps as I lower the zipper and shrug the shirt off my shoulders. It drops to the table top. He pulls it off the table and tosses it on the floor. My breasts look squished in the mesh shirt, so I reach up under the hem and adjust them so they're sitting centered and perky-like. Marcus just watches me.

"No pictures?" I tease him, showing him my handiwork. I'm feeling more and more comfortable up on this table. I do a few silly poses for him, and he just laughs at me. "Bad girl."

More collars are brought out, only these are different from before. Gone are the delicate, beautiful, intricate designs. These are bulky gothic monstrosities. Leather and iron and steel that weighs heavy on my neck. Most have thick chains attached to rings in the collar. Chains for cuffs, or clamps, or leashes. I kneel and let him put the first one on. The heavy, stiff leather is so wide I can't lower my chin. Matching cuffs are affixed to my wrists. A think chain connects my wrist to rings on either side of the collar.

"No more coaching. Pose for me. Whatever feels natural." I test the range of movement as the camera starts clicking. I face Marcus and place my hands behind my head, the chains hangs down over my shoulder. I turn away from him. With my hands above my head, I force them as far apart as possible. I tense every muscle in my body, like I'm trying to break free. "Beautiful, good girl." I crawl down the table, Marcus matches me step for step. More collars and more pictures and more poses. These are darker and more animalistic. Yes, I see the irony of crawling around with a collar around my neck, but refusing to be fed while kneeling on a dog bed. I still haven't figured that out either.

I look up and see the pulley system above the table. "Marcus, can I use that?" I point to the chains.

"The hoist? How?

"I think it would look good with the chains draped over me." Marcus thinks it over. He goes to a panel along the wall. The grinding of metal echoes as the hoist moves into position above me. The chains rattling as he lowers them onto my shoulders.

They're rusty and heavy. Marcus steps back and takes more pictures. I wrap my arms around the chains and pull. "Beautiful, Keep going." We use the chains along with several more collars. He's running out of boxes.

Marcus puts the collars away and locks up the safe. He comes back without the camera. "Strip."

This is where I either make a huge mistake, or make him very happy. "No. I don't think I will."

"What?" His eyes darken as he looks up at me from below. I like being on this table. I like being taller than him.

"I said 'no, I won't strip.'" I giggle at the expression on his face and spin around. I take a few steps away from the chains and pulley system with my newly acquired supermodel walk. Marcus is just standing there, shocked.

Like a cat, he hops up on the table, his eyes never leaving mine. He dodges around the chains and stalks after me. "What are you up to, little girl?"

"You see. That's where I think the problem is. Little girl. Little girl. Little girl." My voice is sing-song and teasing. I square my shoulder and walk directly up to him, the heel of my palm connecting with his chest. He doesn't budge. "Little girls don't wear clothes like this. Little girls don't wear leather outfits that expose this much cleavage. Little girls don't wear 'barely there' netting that covers absolutely nothing. " I run my free hand up my stomach to my breast. He watches, transfixed, as I fondle myself.

He takes a sudden step forward; I keep my arm up, but take a matching step back. "Tsk tsk tsk. Bad boy. I didn't tell you to move." I enjoy the way his eyes widen and his breath catches. Oh yeah. I have his full attention now. I turn and casually walk a few more steps, making sure my hips sway the way he taught me. He just stands there, gawking at me.

I relish this newfound power I have. I know it won't last long. I'll push a few of his buttons, and he'll explode. But my gut says this is the path to take. So off we go on our next adventure.

"Do you know who wears clothes like this? Powerful women. Strong women. Women who take what they want, and leave little boys whimpering on the floor." I turn back and circle around him, my fingernails scraping along his powerful chest and back. "Are you going to whimper for me, little boy?"

That was it. That was the button that pushed him over the edge. In a flash he moves, and the next thing I know is I'm on my stomach with his weight pinning me down. His hands grab the mesh shirt and tear it to pieces. I can't lift him off me, so I try to crawl forward. He just grabs my wrists and pulls them harshly behind my back, making me cry out. I feel him releasing his manhood. In one motion, he forces my face down to the table top and pulls my hips up so I'm kneeling. Without warning, he slams his hard cock inside me. I scream again. "Red light/green light?" He shakes my head, his cock motionless inside me.

"Green light. Fuck me, you bastard." He growls and starts slamming himself into me over and over. I struggle to get free, but he's so much stronger than me. I try to twist away from him, but he just puts more pressure on my arms, threatening to dislocate my shoulders. I try kicking him, but that just ends me up on my belly again.

Marcus can't get a good angle on me in this position, and my kicking and struggling probably doesn't help him any. He pulls out and hops off the table. I take my chance and try to scramble away. He just grabs an ankle and pulls me off the edge of the table. I try to kick and slap him. He spins me around and pushes me against the edge, forcing me to bend over. I claw at him, even get a few good scratches in before he gets a hold of my wrists. He's shouting right in my ear. "Red light/Green light?"

I twist around so I can glare him, he's breathing as hard as I am. "Green light. If you're man enough to take it. Stupid fucker. Green light." I spit at him and stomp my foot down on one of his. He's swears and slams himself back inside me. He pulls my wrists up, forcing me to press harder into the table to release the pressure on my joints. My hips and thighs are being slammed into the edge of the table. From the force he's using, I know those are going to bruise.

Again I try to twist out of his grasp; he pulls out and smacks my ass several times. I grunt each time. My whole body absorbing the blows, one after another. I kick and shout and swear at him. He wraps a hand around my throat, pulling me up and against his body. I try to claw at his hands and his chest. He grabs both my wrists and pulls them away to a safe distance. He kicks my legs apart and forces himself back inside my pussy. "Do you like this, little toy? Do you like to struggle? Do you like it when I have complete control over you? This is what happens when you taunt me. I own you. You're mine."

"You fucking pussy! All talk and no action. Man up. You want to own me, then take me. Piece of shit." I kick my foot out behind me and hit him in the ass. He growls and starts swearing at me. I won't submit without a fight. He wants powerful, then I'll give him every ounce of it that I have.

He grabs my knee and forces it up on top the table. He presses the back of my neck down against the table top. My hands claw at the table, looking for something, anything. He slams into me; over and over he uses me.

My core begins to boil over. Like an avalanche it just slams into me. My pussy clamps down on his thick cock, as waves of pleasure wash over me.

I'm gasping for breath. Marcus is still fucking me. My limp body rocking back and forth on the steel table. I feel his fingers digging into my hips. I know he's close. I squeeze down with my core muscles. I'm instantly rewarded with a low growl from above. "Fuck me. Marcus. Take me, I'm yours."

He slams into me once, twice, three times before he erupts inside me. He's pressing into me so hard I think my hips might break. I arch up and cry out. He grabs me by the hair and holds me there. "MINE! You are fucking mine." He pulls out and slams into me again. "Every god damn inch of you is mine to use." Again he slams into me. "Fucking. Little. Minx." Each word punctuated with another vicious thrust.

He releases my hair and I flop back down onto the table. He leans forward and lies on top of me. I struggle to breath, but I'm too exhausted to move. Eventually he regains his senses and lifts himself off of me. His cock slips out of my swollen, throbbing pussy. I can only groan.

I feel him press two fingers inside me. Another groan. I'm too exhausted to resist. I don't think I'll survive another fucking like that. The fingers swish around inside me, prodding my insides. He pulls them out. I'm picked up and placed on the table top. He taps the side of my face a few times until I focus on him. "You're bleeding, baby girl. I need to get you back to the condo." He looks so concerned. I place my hand against his face to let him know it'll be OK. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

I smile and loll my head to the side. "You wanted a strong woman. You wanted to overwhelm someone who was powerful. Or you wouldn't have put me in that outfit. I gave you what you wanted in the way I thought would please you the most. Someone keeps telling me that is what submissives do."

"Don't get sassy. I can't even punish you right now."

I giggle. "Sounds like the perfect time to get sassy."

He looks worried again. "Are you OK?"

"Define OK." He helps me up off the table. It hurts to move anything. I have trouble standing, so he picks me up and carries me to the SUV. He lets me sit inside, while he closes everything up and packs up all his stuff. He comes back to my door and opens it. He slips a modest green dress over my head and pulls my arms through the arm holes. He kisses me on the forehead, then he takes me home.