Rehabilitating Lena Ch. 03

Keith hoped and wished and tried hard. But he couldn't control her addiction. A month earlier, he discovered the growing porn collection and her lies. He wanted to punish her. Instead, he sunk to the floor, crying and feeling like a failure. He didn't know what to do except give her an ultimatum. Therapy or no more sex. She quickly chose therapy for two reasons. One, she couldn't live without the sex. Two, she couldn't live without Keith. She wanted the wedding more than ever. She wanted to prove to him and to everyone else how much she loved him. She wanted to be his wife, his submissive, his girl, his slut.

She was starting to like her therapist. Where her fiancé couldn't help her, her therapist did. Although Lena received the treatment she needed for so long, it didn't stop Keith from playing Master.

She drove away from the therapist's office, remembering to breathe deeply. She forced her focus on the road as her thoughts speeded through her mind. The stress was becoming burdensome. With the wedding a month away and the meeting the next day, she was on edge. She feared a manic episode.

Even with the distractions, she made it home safely. "Keith, I'm home!" she said as she tossed her purse and keys on a stand in the entryway. He was already heading toward her. Without a word and only a small smile, he held her arms and kissed her. He petted her hair, stroked her face, and with the other hand, slipped the collar from his pocket. She felt the leather slide around the back of her neck and protested with an exaggerated groan.

"Don't give me that. You were a bad girl yesterday." She scowled and didn't resist as he buckled it. "Promise that you're not going to panic again?"

"Promise, Master."

"Good girl." He kissed her forehead and tugged at her clothes. "I want these off." She took one step back and with one hand, released her long, blonde hair from its messy bun. She bent over and flung her hair back. Slowly, she pulled her arms through the holes of her conservative, gray sweater, then whipped it off revealing a purple cheetah demi underneath. She turned her back to him and pulled down her tight jeans a few inches at a time. She bent over to give him a view of the matching thong as she slid the jeans down. She kicked off her sandals and jeans and looked over her shoulder at him. Her hands went to her back to release the clasps of her bra. She flung it across the room. As she did with her jeans, she took her time sliding the thong down her thighs and let the skimpy panties fall to the floor. She stepped out of them, making sure her pussy was in plain view, then tossed them aside. She straightened and turned toward him.

He savored her near perfect body. The exercising he made her do had paid off. He would never forget the day she presented her size four figure in a bikini. He took her right there at the beach.

"What do you want your girl to do, Master?"

"Relax. If you freak out again, you'll be in trouble."

"But it doesn't feel like I'm ready though."

He sighed and raised an eyebrow. "You're asking for it."

She shifted her eyes down. "Sorry, Master."

"I don't want to hear another negative word. If you want to talk about it, I want to hear how excited you are and how well you're going to do."

"Then, what should I do today?" He crossed his arms. "I meant Sir. What should I do today, Sir?"

"You've have wedding details to figure out."

"Why is it always the female's job to do all the planning? All the man has to do is get fitted for a tux and show up on his wedding day."

"Because I don't care if your bouquet matches the tablecloths at the reception." She rolled her eyes. "And for speaking to me like that..." He twirled her around and slapped her ass, hard.

"Ow!"

"There will be more if you don't stop it."

She sniffled. "Yes, Sir." He couldn't keep his cock under control with her cute, childish pouting. He pressed himself to the back of her.

"Feel that?" His rod poked into her lower back. She nodded. "That's how much I love you." Her hand slipped behind her and gripped his dick. She fondled it through his jeans, squeezing it, stroking it. He forgot about his anger; she knew how to manipulate him. "You want it?"She nodded again. "Then get on the bed, my little whore."

She speeded ahead of him and flung herself onto the bed. She lay on her back, legs spread, arms above her head. But first, he entered the closet to bring out the bondage rope. She frowned and was about to ask why.

"Just your arms. You clawed me well last night." It was the best orgasm of her life, and she dug her fingernails into his arms as she rode it out. She apologized over and over when she saw the crescent dents she created.

He left some slack around her wrists to prevent marks as he secured them together and to the headboard. She tugged at the rope to check its tightness. But she was losing interest as the thoughts of the next day plagued her mind. He knew he was losing her; her eyes stared off into the distance, and she didn't play along, pouted, or begged to be let go. He wanted to use his girl but didn't want to see the dull look on her face. He shook his head and fetched the blindfold and gag. Her lips pouted more; she wasn't in the mood to lose her freedoms. Without caring how she felt about it, he forced the gag through her lips while looking at her straight into her eyes. He covered them with the blindfold, still glaring at her.

The quietness and loss of senses was unnerving but nothing new. She learned not to panic and trust him completely. He kept the silence as he forced his dick in her and moaned as her pussy tightened around him. Two more pumps later, he threw her ankles over his shoulders and clamped his hands over them. He didn't waste any more time and pounded her as fast as he could.

"You like being used, my little slut?" He heard a muffled moan. "You're not getting off, no matter how bad you need it." She whined at his cruelty. "You've been very naughty. I didn't get my blowjob yesterday. You've been thinking of other things instead of servicing me. You've been panicking and forgetting your place. I think it's fair to punish you, don't you agree?" The cries got louder. She struggled against the rope to get his attention. "Nope, you're gonna have to wait. If you're good, your pussy will get some attention. If not, you'll have to wait longer."

He ignored her protests and focused, not worrying if his girl was going to obey him. After three months of training, she knew better than to release at the risk of being punished. He gripped her ankles tightly and thrust into her hard, expelling his seed deep inside of her.

"I want you to think about your behavior. No more freaking out. Understood?"

She nodded and kept quiet the rest of the day. She didn't want to risk missing out on an orgasm and was glad she held out when he cleaned her pussy out with his tongue later that night.

~

The outfit she picked out the night before wasn't good enough. She was too nauseated to eat breakfast. Although she had plenty of time, she ran through the house trying to get ready. Keith stayed on the couch and watched TV, ignoring her. But every few seconds, she had another question or nag.

It was usually, "Where's my...?" and "What time is it?" In between were carefully whispered curses so he wouldn't hear.

He answered each question calmly and pointed out that they still had an hour before they needed to leave. He didn't understand what still needed to be done as she looked dressed and presentable. Her erratic behavior was annoying, and he knew if he didn't step in to stop her, she would be a mess later. He shut off the TV and stretched. He strolled into the bedroom. She stood in front of the vanity, frantically trying to get a necklace off to switch it with another one. "Can you get this?" she whined.

"Can you get this off, please."

"Whatever! Just help me!" He shook his head and opened the clasp.

"If you don't stop, you'll be wearing your collar instead."

"Funny." She grabbed the necklace and threw it on the dresser. She picked up the other one and held it around her neck, waiting to him to secure it. "Ahem..."

"What?"

She glared at him through the mirror. "Seriously, Keith, don't do this."

"I want you to be polite and ask me what you want me to do."

She threw the necklace down. "Forget it."

He quickly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to the bed. She struggled; she knew what was coming. And she knew she needed it. But she didn't want to give in without a fight. With her tight skirt and heels she was just learning to walk in, he had the advantage. It made it too easy for him to place her over his lap. Once her face was inches from the floor, she stopped fighting and held herself up with her arms. He used two hands to pull the skirt up and her panties down.

"Noooo..." she whined and winced as the first slap hit her hard. She wanted to be able to sit that day; she didn't want any evidence of her crying. He spanked the other side just as hard. She fought instinct to run and weakly squirmed. But she knew better. Fifteen minutes with the brush taught her never to run away again. She wanted to block the blows but promised herself to break that habit. Some of the learning came from her hands being struck with objects unintentionally, which only pissed him off more. He started tying her wrists together. More recently, if she dared to do it again, he would strap her thighs after her spankings.

She clasped her hands together in front of her to avoid the temptation. His hand struck her repeatedly, firmly, and fast. She was grateful that he was only using his hand, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

She dared to only move a little. He stayed silent and focused on her red bottom. She didn't cry; she wasn't close yet. For a couple minutes of only the sound of smack, smack, smack, he stopped. The prickly heat radiated from her ass.

"Up."

She groaned standing. With her skirt bunched up and her panties around her ankles, she waited for him to hold her. "Sorry, Sir," she mumbled into his chest.

"It's ok, girl. I knew you needed that." She nodded and took deep breaths, relaxing in his arms. "We have about fifty minutes. What needs to get done?"

"I need a necklace."

"What's wrong with the one you were wearing?"

"I don't think a gold locket seems professional. I just wanted to try the pearls...to see if they will work." He went to the dresser while she fixed her skirt. He rummaged through her jewelry box. Though he believed any of them would do, he understood that she wore each 'a million times.'

"Close your eyes. Whatever one I put on you is what you're wearing." She frowned, annoyed that she had to trust him with a fashion problem. But she closed her eyes.

The velvet, jewelry box was under his nightstand. He reached under and grabbed it. She recoiled a bit as the cold metal made contact with her skin. "You may open them."

She looked down and held the pendant in her hand, but the chain was too short. She turned to the mirror. On a thick, gold chain hung a decorative gold lock, studded with diamonds. The inch and a half tall lock felt heavy against her chest bone. It was the first noticeable thing about her. She gasped and twirled around.

"I love it! Thank you, Sir!" She kissed him, arms tightly around his neck, smiling and giggling, truly grateful. He waited, but she didn't ask where he got the money from. She didn't know how well he was doing selling cars and didn't bother to ask. He was appreciative that she trusted him completely.

"I was going to give it to you tonight, but you're right. You needed a better necklace. She studied it in her reflection, adjusting it, running her fingers over it. "That will be your collar in public." He held her arms in a loose embrace, kissed the back of her head, gave her a swat to her ass, and winked at her as he left her to finish getting ready.

The anxiety surfaced again during the drive. She fidgeted in her seat. She turned the air conditioning on and off, played with the radio, and kept looking through the folder on her lap.

"Lena...breathe." She exhaled and stared out the window at the other cars on the freeway. Every once in a while, they would hit heavy traffic. They left an hour earlier on purpose. Anything less than a two and a half hour drive from San Diego to Los Angeles was a joke. She made it a game searching for brake lights. Each time the red lights lit up, she would groan and complain that she couldn't sit through another episode of bumper to bumper.

They made it to LA and found the office without getting lost. They entered the door to a small room with an attractive receptionist behind a desk.

"Hi, y'all here to see Mr. Jones?"

"Yes, we have an appointment," Lena said.

"K, have a seat. I'll let him know." She smiled sweetly and started typing on the computer in front of her. They sat in the cramped space with its bare walls, a single door, and very little decoration. It didn't look like the lobby of a porn director's office. Lena constantly wiped her palms on her skirt until Keith took her hand and held it tight.

Five minutes later, the receptionist got up from her seat. "He's ready to see ya now." She held the door open and pointed to an open door down the hall. Inside the large office was a cheap couch, a desk, and a few chairs. The walls were crammed with movie posters and pictures with autographs of nude women. A well-dressed man with graying hair stood from the desk and offered hi s hand.

"Lena?"

"Yes." She extended her hand.

"I'm Dale."

"And this is my fiancé, Keith."

They shook hands and engaged in small talk.

"Dev will be here soon." He craned his neck through the door, looking down the hall. "He's on the phone...ah, he's here." They introduced themselves with the shorter man in a baseball cap. Keith watched his nervous girl and gave her an encouraging smile as they sat. There was more chitchat and some traffic jokes. She tried her best to feel at ease.

"So, I read your work," Dale said as his eyes stared straight into hers. "And I think that's what we need." She broke out in a smile. "We need to break away from amateur housewives and barely legal sluts on webcams. And we need more kink. That's why we need you on board. A weekly show will fit perfectly."

"And I like the bit of comedy," Dev said. She nodded while blushing. "We'll make it look professional, and I think we have a girl in mind." Dev looked at Dale. "Shawna, right?"

"She's perfect, and she's willing to do whatever. She's got this sexy and subtle accent."

"But the guy, we're still working on."

"We don't have any with real acting experience. Just well-hung and brainless. We need someone that can actually remember lines and has charisma, I guess." Dale looked her up and down. "You know, we could use a few more beauties around here. Have you ever considered?"

Lena crossed her arms and sunk back into her seat.

"No, she hasn't," Keith said as he glared the men down.

"I'm just sayin'. She's gorgeous. We could definitely use her - -"

"Don't even think about it." He stood and gripped his girl's arm. "We're going." She got up to follow.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I won't bring it up again, I promise." Lena looked to her fiancé. He nodded and they both sat. "Again, sorry. So, you know we're new on the net, so money is not a possibility yet. But with your screenplays, we can get to that level of being able to pay everyone properly. We can do a pilot and see how it goes."

"That would be wonderful," she said.

"Do you have the changes?" She handed him the folder with the script of the first episode. They looked it over and discussed it. The more they talked freely about the vulgarity, the more she felt at ease. Two hours later, they said their goodbyes and left.

A wide and relieved smile was on her face as she stepped into the car. He turned her head with his hand and kissed her. "Proud of you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Let's get some dinner." He started the car, opened the middle compartment, and tossed a bag onto her lap. As he drove away from the parking lot, she placed the bag aside and pulled down her panties. She smeared the lube over the remote vibrator and carefully placed it inside her while checking outside for any passing cars.

"It's in, Master." She placed the remote on his lap. Silently, he drove to the restaurant he made reservations for, ignoring the remote. He parked and shut the engine off.

"We're early."

"Oh." She waited expectedly for the buzzing.

"Maybe you can suck me off while we wait." She smiled and unbuckled her seatbelt. She twisted her body and lowered her head to his crotch. She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His cock was hard and ready for her. She greeted her friend with a kiss to his tip, a ritual she did to show her respect. She teased her Master by rubbing her face around the smooth head. Her tongue ran across the shaft base to tip. She covered the shaft with her lips for a few seconds, then released him.

"Will that do, Master?"

He tried to look as stern as possible. "Get back to work, or I will take you outside, bend you over the car, and strap you in front of everyone." Although the threat was real, she smiled and slowly moved her lips down his rod and back up. She teased him, slowly pumping him. He grabbed a fistful of hair and forced her down.

She relaxed her throat as his enlarged dick filled her throat. The was no use fighting; he was going to use her mouth whether she wanted it or not. She licked around the shaft as it stayed lodged in between her jaws. He yanked her head up. Using her hair, he tugged it to guide her up and down. He forced her to look at him.

"Don't ever tease me like that. I don't want to have to punish you for something as stupid as you not giving me a proper blowjob."

"Yes, Master." She sulked at being lectured.

"I'm not gonna cum, now. I don't want a mess." But she wanted to make up for her behavior that morning and pouted. The buzzing in her pussy caught her by surprise, but she stayed composed. He fixed his pants and slipped the remote in his pocket.

Dinner out always meant a toy was in one of her holes or a vibrator at her clit. In between sips of wine and bites of squash ravioli, he pushed the button. She would smile and control her breathing. The only sign she gave that a vibrator rumbled inside of her was her slightly flushed face. They acted normal, talking about her new job and the upcoming wedding. But as they shared dessert, he whispered what he planned to do to her when they got home.

She whispered back, "Do we really have to wait?"

He smirked and paid for the dinner, held the chair out for her, and led her to the parking lot. As soon as they started driving, his chivalrous attitude changed. He became the rough, wild master who wasn't afraid to ravage her body.

"Take that thing out, now."

She spread her legs and tugged, using tissues in the glove compartment to wipe it clean. She tucked her toy back in its bag.

He searched the road, looking for desolate alleyways and parking lots. He parked behind a closed and boarded up store. "Get out."

She slid out of the car and met him by the trunk. He pinned her hands to the cold metal and positioned her bent over body over the car. He roughly bunched her skirt up to her waist. She dared not move or talk, but she looked all around her for anyone that could see them and hoping that person wouldn't be a cop.

"I don't care if anyone is watching. I need to fuck my little slut." She nodded nervously as he started to shove his dick inside. The thought that someone could be watching didn't make her feel wild and dangerous as she imagined before. All she felt was paranoia.

With his pants around his ankles, Keith didn't mind humping his slut in the cold, dark night. Lena rested her chin on her hands while her pussy was brutalized from behind. Her eyes shut tight; she tried to concentrate on the friction of the thrusts, the cold metal that bit through her thin skirt and lacy bra, the air on her bare legs, and the warmth of her Master's abdomen slapping against her. She heard the slapping, his rigid breathing, and the distant sound of cars. Her lips tightened to contain any sound; she wanted to stay as quiet as possible.