Just Curious Ch. 11

"Well, make it quick. I get her after you, then she has to go to the airport." I can hear the teasing in Marcus's voice.

"Don't rush me damn it, I don't perform well under pressure." Elliot still has his hands behind his head.

"No more playing, girl. Suck him." That was a command, and I obey. Any retort Elliot might have wanted to say is drown out when I press forward and suck him deep. The next few minutes are spent bobbing up and down on his cock. My hands tugging and toying with his balls. When I glance up at Marcus, he's leaning back and slowly stroking his massive cock. I go back to servicing Elliot.

Soon Elliot's hand entwines in my hair. He's close and he's taking over. I concentrate on my breathing and trying not to gag as he presses himself down my throat. I doesn't take him long, before his cum is shooting down my throat. I have no options other than to swallow.

Elliot sags back onto the sofa. I catch my breath and start licking him again, tasting the saltiness coating his cock. Elliot is grinning like a schoolboy. "I like her."

Marcus punches him lightly in the shoulder. He motions me over with a finger. I scoot over to kneel between Marcus's legs. His cock is already hard and bobbling in front my face. I lick it from the base to the tip. "Please Marcus. May I suck your cock. Please. I want to taste you. I want your cum in my mouth, please."

Marcus leans forward and kisses me. "I love it when you beg so sweetly. Yes, little one, you may suck my cock." He didn't put me in the kneel position, so I wrap my hands around the warm, velvety muscle and start my second blow-job of the morning. Long slow strokes meant to tantalize and tease him. I press him back as far as I can, and slowly pull it out while sucking in. His groan is all the encouragement I need. Over and over I work his cock in and out of my mouth.

It doesn't take long for him to near his completion. As Elliot did before, Marcus takes a bunch of my hair in his fist and takes over the pace and depth. I breathe and swallow as he taught me to do. And soon I'm rewarded for my efforts. Marcus slumps back on the sofa as I lick him clean.

I stay kneeling between Marcus's legs as he recuperates. He tucks his cock away and praises me. Both men are watching me, but Marcus is the one that speaks. "Sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing us." I scoot back until I'm close to the low table and hop on. "Spread your legs." I do that. Both men have clear line of sight between my legs. "Lie down on your back, keep your legs open." I lay down, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for my next order. This is so much easier than it was on the first few days. I think it's because I trust him. I know he won't hurt me.

"Rub your clit." My hand reaches between my legs automatically, before I register what was said. My hand stops. He's never asked me that before. I lift my head and look at him. Did I hear that correctly? "Masturbate for us, little minx."

I glance at Elliot, then back to Marcus. I drop my head down and tentatively touch my clit. I flick it a few times, trying to get a feel for this. I never had to worry about what I looked like or if I was doing it right before. I just did what felt good. "Tsk Tsk Tsk We don't have a lot of time, and if you don't get a move on, you'll be going home unfulfilled. Rub your clit like this is the last orgasm you'll ever have."

I take a deep breath, and work my clit furiously. My core starts to tingle almost immediately. My eyes close as I rub and twist and flick it faster and faster. My back arches off the table top, I'm so close. I jump as someone touches my hand. I try to see, but as soon as I open my eyes, Marcus is hovering above me. He leans down as kisses me; his large hand gropes my breasts.

Elliot has replaced my fingers with his mouth. I groan as he latches onto my clit. Fingers toy with my pussy and ass, but don't press inside. Tongue and teeth are dancing over the sensitive nub. I'm writhing on the table within minutes. Marcus tries to hold me down, as Elliot picks up the pace. "Cum. Cum for me, little minx."

As ordered, I explode. I scream into Marcus's mouth as Elliot laps up my juices. I collapse back down to the table, panting. "Boss! That was fucking sweet. I could do that all day."

Marcus smiles down at me. "She's not one to disappoint. I am very proud of you little one. You made me very happy."

"Thank you, Marcus, for letting me cum. Thank you for letting Elliot use me, again."

"Delicious and polite. That's a heady combination." Elliot is still kneeling between my legs, wiping off his face.

The two men help me off the table, then I have just enough time for one more quick shower before I go. When I come out, Marcus is sitting on the bed. I go to stand in front of him. He places his hands on my waist and lower his head until it's resting on my tummy. I run my fingers through his hair. We sit like this for a while, just being with each other. One last time.

Marcus breaks the contact first. He just looks up at me for a long time. Then he reaches over a picks up a pair of underwear from the pile of clothes on the bed. It hangs off his finger as he offers it to me. I take it silently and slip them on. Next is the bra, then the socks. Marcus watches me silently as I get dressed. The shirt and jeans are last. I put my cell phone and other stuff in my pockets, Marcus picks up my bag and ticket. He kisses me one last time on the top of my head. I look up into his soft, sad brown eyes. "Thank you for coming here this week. You made me very proud with everything you are, everything you did, and everything you achieved. You are a natural submissive. Never fear what you are. When you find the right man to rule you, to control you, you will be glorious; you will be content, you will be happy. Trust this." He holds me one last time and we leave the bedroom and go out into the living room.

Elliot is sitting on the sofa, he stands as we enter. He takes the bag and the plane ticket from Marcus. "Are you ready to go?" I look to Marcus. I thought he was taking me. Marcus just kisses my forehead. "Go on girl, time to go." Without another word, he turns and walks back to his bedroom. Elliot takes me by the elbow and guides me downstairs.

Elliot parked his rusty old jeep about a block away, which is pretty good for Vegas anywhere near the strip. He stows the bag in the back, and helps me in my seat. We take off for the airport. "Sir? Why didn't Marcus want to take me to the airport."

Elliot looks over at me when we are waiting at a traffic light. "Not want. Can't. The last time Marcus got anywhere near an airplane, the cops and feds went berserk. They started hauling everyone in on any trumped up charges they could think of. Hell, Harris even got locked up for not paying child support." I must have looked at him funny. "He's sterile. Some farm accident when he was a kid. He was angrier than a pit a vipers when he got out of lock-up."

He turns off the highway, onto the off ramp for the airport. "Marcus was only gone a day, and all hell broke loose. He'd be here if he could, You know that." Yeah I suppose I do.

"What did they get you for?"

He makes this disgusted look on his face. "They didn't. I had the unfortunate experience the spending the entire day in the back office of a bowling alley. God, what a pit that place was. I went through close to 40 burner phones, and I couldn't get the smell out of my clothes, ended up throwing out a good suit. Bastards. Never again. I told Marcus if he ever tries that shit again, I'll kill him myself."

"I think he left to save me." He did say he took a plane when he was at my place.

Elliot looks at me sheepishly. "Well, I wouldn't actually kill him, maybe just wound him a little bit." The rest of the drive is in silence.

We get to the airport and check in, Elliot is right there with me, with a ticket of his own. He buys me a coffee and we wait in the hard plastic seats. My flight is called and he carries my bag to the boarding line. This is where he says goodbye. One last hug and an inappropriate comment about the color of my ass. I'm laughing and trying not to cry as he steps back from the line and waves goodbye. I walk onto the plane alone.

The plane ride is comfortable and uneventful. When it lands, I go out the main terminal to find a taxi. Jared is there, waiting for me. I'm seriously not prepared for this conversation. He takes my bag and I follow him to his car. He tosses the bag in the back and I get a big hug. No questions, no accusations, no shocked exclamations. Just a big, much needed hug.

We get in the car and he drives me away from the airport. "Are you OK?" I don't answer. I just look out at the massive parking lot surrounding the airport. "Did he hurt you?" I don't answer. The traffic is light and we turn onto the highway. "Hey. Look at me. I need to know if you're OK. Answer me, damn it."

I turn to look at him. I had felt lost, and scared, and alone on the plane. But here, now, sitting in this car, I know I'll be OK. Somewhere, deep down inside me, my inner voice tells me I'm going to be just fine. Where ever my life goes from here, whatever path I take, I now have a strong foundation for knowing what I need, and what I can do. From there I can reach the stars.

Unbidden, a huge grin forms, lighting me to up my eyes. I'm going to be just fine. Jared looks at me. Just looks. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, my friend. Thank you." Nothing more needs to be said. He doesn't need to know anything about my time with Marcus. He just needs to know that he did the right thing. And he did.

*********

It's a beautiful Saturday morning. One week to the day, since I returned to my home. I haven't had a single panic attack, or any nightmares. It was a bit difficult sitting all day at work Monday and Tuesday, but my wounds and soreness are healing nicely. I'm still using the ointments Marcus left when he was here to steal my stuff. I talked to Marcus when I got home on Saturday, and he called again on Wednesday to see how I was doing. It took me almost till Wednesday to get my sleep schedule back to normal. Although, I have to admit, I do kind of miss having him wake me up in the morning, even the sweaty, drippy part.

I had a nice long bike ride this morning. After a shower and a quick snack, I'm relaxing on the sofa, watching TV. There's a knock at the door. I go answer it. There's a young man in a nice suit holding a box. He looks at me for a moment longer than necessary. Then he offers me the box. "Good morning, miss. This is for you."

I take the box. I don't see a mail or UPS truck anywhere. "Do I have to sign for it?"

"No need, miss. Have a good day." He turns to leave.

"Wait. What about a tip?" This is so weird.

He puts up his hand, palms toward me. "No, miss. He'd kill me if I took money from you. Just take the box, miss. Again, have a good day." He turns to leave again. I watch him get into a sleek looking sedan. As he drives away, I see the Nevada license plate. Everything clicks. Marcus.

Marcus sent me a box. I close the door and sit right down on the floor where I was standing. It's a long box, about three feet by one foot by one foot. There's no writing, no postage, no nothing on it. I rip open the end. I pull out the tissue paper and throw it into the air. Dresses. It the dresses I wore and some I didn't. The white one with the paint splotches that he ripped in half is on top, then the green one with the square neckline. The catholic school girl is next, then a blue one I don't recognize.

Half way down is another box, snuggly packed inside the first box. It takes some effort to pry it out. It's thin, maybe four inches. Under that is another box. Again I struggle to work it out of the main box. More dresses are underneath. I see a new, unopened mesh shirt in a plastic bag on top of the red leather outfit.

I ignore the rest of the dresses in the big box. The little boxes have my attention now. They're both identical, unmarked. I pick one at random to open. It's a digital photo frame with symbols of my Vegas trip along the frame; golf clubs, kayaks, horses, part of the ticket to Cirque du Soleil, a tiny plastic slab of ribs and poker chips. Awww. He made this for me. I hug it to my chest for a moment, then rush to plug it in.

The first picture is me standing in his living room wearing the white dress, looking down on the people walking by. The light is filtering through my hair, making it glow like a halo. Then a picture is me at the birthday party on my last night. I didn't know he took that. These are random, tourist style photos, which is good because I've been telling everyone I lost my camera. Now I can tell them I found it.

I'm basking in my happiness when I notice the second box beckoning me. I put the first one on the floor and open the second one. It's the same model photo frame, only this one has a whip snaking along the bottom, a pair of cuffs in each corner. There is an envelope; plain, white, unmarked that I put on the floor. I plug this one in, anxiously waiting for the screen to come to life. It does.

I'm lying on my stomach, spread eagle on a white bed; there are whip marks criss-crossing my back and thighs. The white light of Vegas is making the city glow in the two huge windows making the backdrop for the picture. The next picture is from the photo shoot on the long metal table. I'm lying on my stomach, resting on my elbows, my hands folded in front of me. The swell of my breasts draw the eye away from the delicate silver and sapphire collar around my neck.

I spend the rest of the morning looking between the two frames, the mundane and the erotic. I don't move from that spot for an hour.

My phone beeps. It's a text from Marcus: How's your morning?

Me: I got a package this morning. It looked suspicious, so I called the bomb squad to cum check it out.

Marcus: Liar. Do you like them?

Me: I love the frames, thank you for making them for me. I also love the pictures. The delivery man was very polite and refused any tip.

Marcus: You're welcome. I'll let him know you mentioned it. Let me know about the envelope, no rush.

Crap. I forgot about the envelope. I rip it open and pull out the two sheets of paper. The top one is handwritten - Some mementos of your visit. I hope you enjoy them. Dominic and AJ have both asked about you, I think you have a fan club here. I know you said you didn't want any picture posted anywhere, and I will abide by that. BUT if you ever change your mind, I would love to use the pictures of you wearing my collars on my website. I would, of course, alter them to cover your identity. Just sign and date the release if you are willing. The choice is yours. M. - The next page is an official looking release form.

My phone beeps again. Another text: You didn't read the letter till I mentioned it. Did you?

Me: Sorry Marcus. I was preoccupied. :-)

Marcus: Just don't start licking or sniffing anything. Take care, my little minx. I know you'll shine.

Me: Thank you, Marcus. For everything.

I'm on my own now. Whatever happens next, I know I'm strong enough to survive. I know I'll thrive. Like Marcus says, I'm a survivor. Everything's going to be OK. I put the phone to the side, and lay down on the floor in front of the door, to watch my pictures all over again.

*********

Thanks to all my pervy readers for making it worth the effort to write this story. Thank you for your support.

Please feed the authors by clicking one of the stars below the stories. We take a lot of time out of our lives to write these stories and one quick, anonymous click won't kill ya. :-)