Messy Ch. 17

I stroked her cheek, dragged wet hair out of her face to tuck behind one ear. "Not stupid at all. Fantasies are important. They show us who we are, primally, at the animal level."

She shrugged. "Eh, it can only ever be a fantasy. I don't mind, there's so much other fun stuff to try."

"Yeah, did you see something upstairs that you wanted to try?"

"Oh yes..."

I was surprised by the piece she wanted to try. It was a tall rack surrounding a short padded bench, hooks for cuffs and chains set in the uprights, and the supports for the bench. She had the right idea how it worked, and I watched her gorgeous body move and twist as she maneuvered into position, lying back on the bench and lifting, spreading her legs wide.

"You want this?" I asked.

She looked up at me. "Yes."

"Since we haven't talked about this beforehand, we'll go with 'red' as the safe-word. If for any reason you want me to stop everything immediately, say 'red.'"

"Will I need a safe-word?" Deirdre sounded mildly worried.

"You might want one..." Black neoprene locking cuffs hung from chains on the frame above the bench, and I secured her ankles, adjusting the chains so that they pulled her legs apart as far as possible. A similar setup was located under the bench, and I cuffed her hands together, made sure they were loose enough that she could pull on the chains or twist and not hurt herself.

Back, I walked around the frame, admiring the view. The redhead was totally exposed, laying on her back with her hands cuffed under her, and her muscular legs spread wide chained tightly to the uprights. She followed me with her eyes, raising her head as I circled.

"So what do you want me to do now?" I asked, kneeling beside her head.

She looked up at me, want and fear and surprise all mixed together and off-kilter in her eyes. "What would you normally do?"

I scratched my chin. "Probably blindfold you. Use a flogger or paddle on your legs and butt and...other...sensitive...areas. Probably alternate between your mouth and your pussy, at least for the first round."

"First round?" Deirdre sounded slightly anxious.

I stroked her cheek and smiled, made sure it looked slightly menacing. "Oh yeah. I've got you tied up and on display, I'm not going to stop just because I cum once. The second round would probably involve oral and a vibrator and some anal."

"Not that, not right now."

"Ok. Anything else you want to cross off the list?"

She thought about it, shook her head. "You're obviously more experienced at this sort of thing, just go slow."

I thought about how to phrase my next question. "Probably should've asked this earlier, and I apologize if it's rude...but...any infections I should know about? We kinda rushed into things earlier."

Deirdre smirked. "No, none. You?"

"Clean. One last question...is there anywhere you don't like cum?"

Another moments consideration, she looked like she was wrestling with something. "My tubes are tied, so you can cum pretty much anywhere besides my hair and eyes."

"I'll use a condom anyway, but... You're serious? Do you mind if I ask why?"

"Later."

I began with a blindfold, gently tying the black fabric over her eyes and then stepping back to admire the restrained beauty. She really was gorgeous. Her mane of red hair hung off the bench, nearly touching the floor. With her hands shackled behind her, the musculature in her arms and shoulders was highlighted, and her full breasts were pushed forward. Her chest rose and fell with excitement, and sweat collected on her flushed, taut abdomen. Below her fine red thatch of pubic hair, her vaginal lips were engorged dark pink, open, glistening with copious feminine lubricant, dripping down over her clenched brown whorl. Her legs were spread obscenely wide, the muscles well defined.

Gorgeous.

Deirdre sensed me by her head and opened her mouth, and I fed her my cock, reveling in the sensation as she closed her lips around it and sucked powerfully. I thrust slowly, watching her arch and angle and struggle to blow me from his different angle. Eventually she resigned herself to the fact that attempting to suck me like normal was going to be impossible, and relaxed, letting me control the pace and the depth, only angling her head back to allow me more direct entry to her throat.

She gasped when I pulled free, pulling at her bonds, and then I pushed back in again and she whimpered around the meat in her mouth before sucking noisily.

I let her stoke my need to cum with her wet mouth and tongue and then pulled away, walked around to kneel before her wide-open legs. "You're on display, Red," I said softly. I ran my tongue from the edge of her labia up the inside of one leg to her knee, down to her glistening wet pussy to the other inside thigh, flicked across her anus, and then started tracing across her lower lips, specifically avoiding her clit. "I have access to EVERYTHING down here... And you can't stop me."

Deirdre moaned as I went to work pleasing her orally, her thrashing and cries of enjoyment increasing to shrieks when I finally sealed my lips over her clitoris and began applying suction, swiping it with my tongue, all while my fingers were stroking hard at the roof of her increasingly slippery twat. She came hard, shrieking like a banshee, humping her privates into my face - awkward due to the angle, a little rivulet of clear liquid streaming out of her pussy as sensation overloaded her brain. I stepped back to watch as she twitched through the aftershocks of her orgasm, hips thrusting slightly, her asshole clenching and releasing rhythmically, her privates flushed even deeper red than her chest and face.

Her head lolled on the bench and I approached. "You ok?"

The redhead sighed contentedly. "Great, except for two things."

"What's up?"

"I need my side itched...right there...you got it... And then I need your dick in me again."

"I can do that too." I got a vibrator from the dresser, rolled on a rubber, and returned to stand between her thighs. I took a moment to tease her hyper-stimulated vaginal lips with my member, brushing against the glistening wet petals before placing the head at her entrance and easing slowly forward.

Deirdre groaned as her twat stretched open at my intrusion, pulling at the chains on her wrists and arching her back powerfully at the sensation of being completely filled. "Shit that's deep..."

I settled into a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until I could see the head of my cock and then pushing slowly back in until I was buried to the hilt, over and over again, giving her the sensation of complete fullness alternating with emptiness. She writhed erotically on the bench, the links of the chains clinking, cries of pleasure escaping her lips as I worked her into a sexual frenzy. Her beautiful body showed arousal easily, nipples hardening to the point that I suspected they could cut glass, torso and face flushing bright red, chest and abs heaving with exertion, and even clad in sensation-dampening rubber, my dick could feel subtle clenches in her tunnel and an increase in wetness before it leaked out against my balls.

Deirdre's head jerked up off the bench when she heard the vibrator start buzzing, looking for and to identify the source of the sound and she came with a wail when I pressed it to her clit. She screamed and tried to hump against me, her body rocking on the leather padding, her legs shaking as she seemed to fight against the sensations she was experiencing. It was no use though - I picked up the pace and held the vibrator in place, driving her through climax after climax.

I felt no need to cum, having done so recently, but I enjoyed the experience anyway. The old aggression, the need to fuck was returning, and so I settled into a rhythm and had fun, watching and listening as I overloaded Deirdre with sensation.

Eventually I stopped. The redhead was limp and sweaty and twitching on the bench, no longer screaming, just accepting, jerking occasionally as another orgasm came or subsided. I shut the vibrator off and pulled out with a liquid squish, unclasping the ankle cuffs and then kneeling at her side to undo the ones on her wrists. Then I gathered her smaller body up in my arms, and sat with my back to the padded wall. I stroked the blindfold from her face with my fingertips, combed through her sweaty mane of red. She curled closer to me as I brushed her cheek, kissing weakly at my neck and face.

"You liked that?" I asked.

Deirdre chuckled tiredly. "That was cruel. I'm gonna sleep for like twenty hours now."

"You're cute when you're all fucked out."

She raised her head. "I'm gonna have to take like a week to process what just happened, but I didn't think it was even possible to cum that much."

"Oh trust me, it is." I grinned at her evilly, and she kissed me again. "No more. Please."

"You got it. Though I do wonder..." A flicker of a memory passed through my mind. I'd have to look into that...

"Hmmm?"

"If you could make that fantasy you told me about come true, would you want to?"

"I can't even think right now, Gary."

I wrapped her up even tighter in my arms and held her as we both relaxed from the rush of our frantic fucking.

Why couldn't I have done this with Sienna? Could I still do this with Sienna? The blonde deserved to be the one in my arms right now, not this stranger. Hell, Tori should be here instead.

I longed for the old days - last year - when the slim Latina would come over looking to get tortured and fucked for a weekend, a little bit of tenderness mixed in. I missed the days when my life was normal and everything was ok.

But instead, my life was messy.

We ordered pizza and chowed down on the grease and carbs, even dipping into my remaining alcohol stash for a little Wild Turkey - I had to call Jessie tonight - before Deirdre left, protesting that she'd like to stay, but she had to work tomorrow. We faced each other awkwardly at the door, unsure of how to proceed after we'd crossed this line.

"I'd like to see you again, do this again," Deirdre said awkwardly, almost guiltily.

"So would I...just..." I tried to conjure up the right words, failed to find any that weren't blunt and egotistical.

"Just what?"

"I'm not looking for anything...long-term. This was fun. I wanna keep it that way."

The redhead smirked, punched me in the shoulder. "You think I'm gonna fall in love with you cuz we fucked?"

I shrugged. "It's happened."

"I ain't looking for anything long term either. This was just exercise and stress relief."

I heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Oh thank goodness."

"Let's exercise again soon." Deirdre kissed me briefly and then she was gone with a slam of the door.

"How you doing?" I asked Tori when I went to collect her. She was flipping through an ancient copy of a woodworking magazine, staring at it blankly with half-shut eyes.

"You done screwing that girl, I assume?"

I smirked. "Yeah. I am. How about you come back now?"

"Ok." She rose and dropped her magazine on the bed.

Dammit.

I blocked the bedroom door with my body and arm. "What can I do for you, Tori? How can I help?"

"Let me fucking pass?"

"Not until...not until this gets sorted out. You're dying like this."

"I wish."

"Really? You want to die. You're the toughest person I know, and you've decided to quit."

"You know what I mean." She tried to push past and I held firm.

"You're barely eating, you're drinking like a handle every three days, you quit working out, you lay on your bed or couch for twenty hours a day. Work is gonna start up for you in like two weeks, are you even gonna go?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Haven't decided yet."

"C'mon, Tori. This isn't healthy. You're destroying yourself, you're choosing to drown."

"That's rich, coming from you. Do I need to try to suck-start a gun too?"

My jaw hardened, and I could feel my muscles tense. "I came back, because you were there for me. I'm trying to be here for you."

"Yeah well, good for you. I earned this. More than earned this. In a couple years, then maybe I will be far enough away from it to feel ok."

My heart ached. There was a hot, tectonic rend in my chest, a sad and exhausted knowledge that I was watching the one person that meant the most to me in all the world give up. "Do you think they would've wanted this, Tori?"

"What?" The first real emotion I'd seen from her in two months flared in her eyes and voice.

Anger.

"I know you didn't spend MUCH time with James, but Michael and Nina cared about you. A lot. Do you think they'd want to see you like this, spending all day drinking or laying on your bed trying to will yourself to join them?"

She punched me. Hard. Center of the chest, powerful enough to stagger me. Stepping in close, she fired off a knee at my balls, gripping my neck to pull me down and hold me in place as she pulled back for another knee strike.

Dammit.

I broke her grip by forcing my hands up between hers and then apart, blocked the knees she was throwing, and picked her up bodily and tackled her to the bed, pinning her there.

The advantages of nine inches more height and probably a hundred pounds more weight.

"Tori, fucking knock it off!"

"I think they wouldn't wanna die!" she screamed at me. "Except Nina...except at...except the end...like me..."

She screamed again, and it was pain and anger and despair, but coming from a well of such powerful, raw emotion the sound had an other-worldly strength.

The scream ended and sobs wracked her, her body heaving as her misery fought to get out in high-pitched wails and coughs and grunts. I gathered her in my arms and held her as she shook.

And I understood, finally, what was killing her.

Tori had lived in So-Cal for the first eighteen years of her life, a happy, lower-middle-class girl going to school every day and running track and planning for a STEM degree from the local college so she could lift herself and her doting mother out of the low-income neighborhood where they inhabited a well-loved ancient two-story. A happy, carefree schoolgirl with a bright future ahead of her - I could imagine her biking home from school, picking out her prom dress, doing homework, filing admission paperwork for college...

Until her boyfriend had been shot in front of her and she'd been kidnapped, gang retaliation for something one of her boyfriend's friends had done.

They'd held her prisoner in another town for two days, raping and beating her repeatedly. She'd finally escaped by biting out the throat of the gangbanger sent to violate her one last time before killing her, stealing his gun, climbing out the window and jumping two stories to the pavement, shooting dead two more of her attackers, and then hiking and dragging herself back home with a broken leg.

So-Cal hadn't held much interest for her after that and as soon as she was healthy enough to travel, she'd gathered what money she could and put that accursed state in her rearview. She'd stayed with a middle school friend now living in Minneapolis, signed on with a construction crew, and started learning a trade.

When the lingering darkness in her brain got too much to handle, she looked for rough, meaningless, empty sex. Nina was the nurse who'd patched her up after a particular encounter got too rough for both parties to handle, and they became friends after Nina introduced her to a group - society, culture, whatever you want to call it - that gave her an opportunity to exercise those demons in a safe way.

That was how I'd met her.

And then the damnedest thing happened. She came over to my house one night a few years ago, looking for a consensually violent hookup, and found me drunk and crying in the attic, with one of my father's pistols under my chin, contemplating permanently curing the depression that had set in after my parents had died and my sister had lit out for far away places.

She looked at me blubbering away, completely inebriated, and asked "Wanna fuck?"

I'd laughed and asked why.

"Because fucking feels better than dying."

Lying on the bedroom floor a few hours later, covered in bruises, bite marks, and bodily fluids, she'd told me about California, and the violence she had experienced there.

"I wanted to die," she'd said. "At the end. Fuck, halfway through I wanted to die. Just to make it stop. Because the seconds seemed like hours, and it seemed like that was my life now and forever. Pulled out of high school to become a fleshlight for a bunch of seventy-five IQ gangstas who barely speak intelligible English and trip over their own pants when they run from police. But then when it came time to actually do the dying part, I didn't WANT to so much as I didn't CARE...as long as I got to hurt a few of them first. And I did."

I'd asked - drunkenly insensitively - why she sought out sexual experiences that mirrored the worst part of her life. The coupling we'd done for the past hours had been amazing...but also amazingly violent, and fairly painful and degrading for Tori as well.

Tori had mounted me, rode me for a few seconds, and then punched me in the face hard enough to give me a shiner. "First it was to face my demons. Then, then I realized that I...I enjoy having those things done to me... When I control them. Even if it looks like I'm not in control, I have ALL the control. I control when it starts, when it stops, how long it lasts, what's done to me. Everything. And I learn to happily - gleefully - kill the fuck out of anyone who takes that control away from me. I'll never be a victim again."

And that's what was eating her alive.

The knowledge that someone she'd cared deeply for had suffered similar tortures as she had, and had died from them. Nina's death was a more violent - but still eminently imaginable - version of the death that Tori herself had clawed, bit, and killed her way free of.

She didn't have to imagine what her best friend had gone through.

She knew.

I held her close, stroking her hair as she burrowed her messy, wet face into my shirt and cried for far longer than I thought a human being was capable.

And then I held her as she drifted off to sleep.

And then I held her while she slept fitfully, whimpering as she fought against and suffered at the hands of whatever demons she saw when she closed her eyes.

Somewhere in the darkness of morning, still awake, I realized this was the only place I wanted to be. Right here.

With her.

Sienna might relax me, might take away my stress and worry, might allow me to exercise my constant need for domination. Jessie might have some indefinable, almost perfect connection with me, a combination of shared interests, shared attitudes, and complimentary carnal pursuits.

But here, right here, I found all of that together.

Would I feel the same if I were holding one of my other partners? I was self-aware enough to consider the possibility. I'd comfort either of them through the night without a single thought otherwise.

The difference was history. Four years of shared pain and healing and exploring and living...together.

I'd feel bad for Sienna if it was her I was holding under similar circumstances, but I wouldn't feel like my heart was ripped out of my chest. I wouldn't feel like I was losing the most important person in my life.

Sienna walked in Sunday night looking frazzled. Her clothing was uncharacteristically baggy - sweatpants and a hoodie - her face was drawn, her hair was messy, and she looked...tired. Tori and I were eating dinner at my kitchen table when she opened the back door and stomped in. "Hey," she said quietly while she kicked off her slushy shoes, and then without waiting for a response, she headed upstairs with her duffel bags.

I followed her up, watched her from the doorway as she angrily slung clothing from the bags into piles on the floor. "Everything alright?"