The Coldest Night of the Year Ch. 05

Now that I'm able to fuck whomever I want, she thought, And I have learned to enjoy his suffering, what does love mean? I want him in the room when I fuck. Would I want that if I didn't love him? Is that love?

Clara then led him to the bed, threw back the covers, tucked him in.

Clara locked eyes with Richard as she undressed.

"Look in my eyes, not at my body," she told him. Richard complied.

Clara took her time: unbuttoning her blouse, leaving it hanging loose from her body, slowly unzipped her skirt, stepping out, kicking off her heels. She slipped out of the blouse, unhooked her bra, exposed her breasts, the key to Richard's cock still dangling between them. She maintained eye contact with Richard as she stripped off her panties.

"OK. What do you think?" she asked.

"You're beautiful. I've always thought so."

She cupped her breasts. She lightly pinched her nipples, wincing a little. She was excited, but her pussy was sore from fucking Jay and Kurt hard all night.

"Roll onto your side."

Richard rolled onto his side, facing away from her. She slid into the bed behind him. His body was warm. He smelled of soap and sweat. She bit his shoulder hard enough to make him tense. She slid her hand, slowly, toward his cock.

The metal cage was surprising. It was hard, but it was warm from his body. She was startled by how much she enjoyed fondling his balls, feeling his cock tense against the metal. This is mine now, she thought. I have never felt ownership of it until now.

She forced his legs apart, slapped his balls harder than she had dared. Richard yelped. Damn, that was sweet.

Did he enjoy it? She wanted to ask him how he felt. But suppressed the urge.

She slapped his balls again. Harder.

"Ouch!" Richard shouted. It couldn't have hurt much if he were only saying "ouch". She felt no thrill in "ouch".

She slapped him again. harder still.

Richard screamed with pain. Yes. Like that, she thought. She bit her tongue to keep from asking how he was doing. Her cunt was damp and sore. She was exhausted. But slapping Richard's balls had made her wish she could call Jay to tell him how it felt.

"Now that you're caged, I've decided to let you sleep with me. At least when you're not being punished, or I'm not sleeping with someone else."

Richard was silent.

"Good night, darling."

"Good night, Clara."

They were both, at first, too excited to sleep, but eventually they succumbed to exhaustion from lack of sleep and the release of emotional tension.

***

Having spent the previous forty-eight hours in tension and debauchery, they slept in on Sunday.

Richard, still a bit groggy, woke to pee. Clara was still asleep. He reached for his cock, standing over the toilet, then remembered his cock was caged. After he peed, he jiggled the apparatus to confirm that it wasn't coming off without a key. Even if he could have gotten it off, Clara would have been displeased.

How did he feel about that? He wasn't certain, but he was alarmed that it already felt so natural.

He also felt a strong desire to serve her. This was something new. Until now, his submission had felt like a dirty game. This morning, it felt like his identity.

How does that make me feel? he wondered. I guess I'm not surprised, after what I've submitted to in the last two days.

He flashed on the image of Kurt fucking Clara, smirking at him. He slapped his face to drive it out of his mind. That didn't work, Richard thought. Kurt is walking around with my darkest secrets. He felt his cock throbbing in its cage, struggling to become erect.

He went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Clara: omelet, home fries, toast with jam, bacon. He put together a tray and carried it carefully to her bedside. Clara, half-awake, smiled at him and sat up.

She accepted the meal without thanks. Richard stood there, waiting for her to dismiss him. Clara ate, ignoring him. There's no way in Hell I'm doing this every morning, he thought, but it seemed the right gesture this morning.

"Thank you, Richard, that was delicious," she said finally. She looked up at him, stone-faced. "I couldn't finish it all. You should eat the rest for me."

Clara got up. She walked to the bathroom without saying another word. When Richard heard the shower, he knew she wouldn't be coming back for a while. Kneeling beside the bed, he cleaned Clara's plate. The food was cold, unappetizing. He took the tray into the kitchen, cleaned up the cookware, and loaded the dishwasher.

By the time he returned from the kitchen, Clara was dressing.

"I'm going out today. While I'm gone, I want you to clean the house. Top to bottom. Get it ready for company. Pay particular attention to the bedroom."

"Are we expecting company?"

"You never know," she said. Her red silk blouse was open to reveal her breasts, the key to his misery visible at the end of its chain.

Who would understand its significance, see It as an invitation? Her tight jeans showed off her hips, legs and ass, ending at a pair of blazing red four inch heels.

"Clara?" There was a question in his voice, perhaps a thousand questions, but neither of them had any answers. It was what it was.

"Text me when the house is clean, I'll send you a shopping list."

"Where will you be?"

Clara ignored the question. Richard knew better than to ask a second time. She left him standing in his bathrobe.

Jesus, I need to jerk off, he thought.

***

Richard lay in bed, unable to sleep, thinking about Clara. She was still out. Thinking about his upcoming confrontation with Jay. Finally, he heard Clara return. It was after three in the morning.

She entered quietly. He watched as she stripped, her body sleek, gleaming in the moonlight. She slowly wriggled out of her black lacy bra. Richard gazed at her luscious breasts.

She threw back the covers. Richard lay naked. As she straddled his chest, she smelled of alcohol and cigarettes. She rested her pussy below his chin. He reached for her hips. She slapped his hands away.

Her pussy smelled of excitement. Her body was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He wanted so hard to be hard it was painful. She put a finger to his lips to indicate he wasn't to speak. He could see her silhouette in the moonlight filtering through the shades. She was so beautiful. The soft light emphasized the sensual curve of her breasts, legs, hips. Her short red hair shone like spun copper.

She held his face in her right hand. Richard knew what was coming. He braced himself. She slapped him hard. His ears rang from the blow.

"Gently," was all she said. Then she lowered herself onto his waiting tongue.

Her cunt was musky, creamy with her arousal. But Richard could tell that he hadn't been fucking anyone else. Was he disappointed that she wasn't full of someone else's cum? He wasn't sure.

He licked at the insides of her thighs, sucked the lips of her cunt. She shoved herself onto his face. Her juices dripped down the sides of his face, got up his nose. He shoved his tongue deep inside her. He could feel her riding his stiff tongue, fucking his face.

She pulled back several times, just as Richard could tell she was about to come. She wanted his tongue, but she was not going to come for him.

Finally, Clara lifted herself off his face slid down his chest. She wrapped her thighs around his hips. She rubbed her cunt against his cage, fingering her clit.

Richard watched helplessly as Clara rode his cock, unable to get erect or even feel the wet warmth of her excited cunt. His cock was wet, but he couldn't feel her. He pushed up against her. She responded, but he felt nothing. She might as well have been riding a dildo.

"Oh, God, Richard. I fucking love the feel of your cage on my pussy," she moaned. "I love using you like this."

Clara came, throwing her head back, moaning like an animal, collapsed on his chest. She lay inert for several minutes, before sliding off to sleep.

Richard lay in the moonlight, anxious, confused, and frustrated. His cock ached to be released. He needed to come. Did she enjoy his suffering? He hoped so. Drunk as she was, he wasn't sure she'd even remember what had happened.

He looked over at Clara, lying there, satisfied, the key nestled against one of her breasts, softly moving up and down with her breath, as if teasing him.

***

Richard's alarm went off at six on Monday morning. He looked over to see Clara naked, snoring gently in the bed beside him. He took a deep breath, wondered how he was going to get through what was about to happen.

At a quarter to eight, He found himself in the lobby of Jay's office sipping nervously from a tepid cup of Starbucks.

Jay's assistant met him at the elevators. She said nothing, but led Richard to the executive floor. Richard struggled not to stare. She was spectacular: a halo of dark brown hair, splendid breasts, rounded hips and long shapely legs.

As he followed her, watching her firm ass, Richard envied Jay having such an assistant. Under the circumstances, Richard realized, his envy was deeply ironic.

She opened the door to Jay's office. Richard took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

The room was a corner office with a stunning view of downtown. The carpets were thick, the walls covered in bookshelves. Jay's furniture was exclusively expensive mid-Twentieth Century originals.

Richard stood before Jay's desk, waiting for him to look up from the Wall Street Journal. Everything Jay wore looked like it had been delivered from Barneys that morning. Jay didn't look up, he didn't indicate whether Richard should sit, so he stood there.

Finally, Jay put down the newspaper. He looked up at Richard. He smiled.

"So, Richard. What brings you here?"

"Jay, I... "

"Address me as 'sir'."

Richard gulped. Jay wasn't going to make things easy. He determined to trudge on, get this over with.

"Uh...sir...I want to apologize for my behavior at the hotel. I'm very sorry. I realize I was wrong to treat you in that manner. I will never touch you again without your permission."

"Hmm. Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. I'm here to ask you to please fuck my wife Clara." Richard was sweating through his shirt.

"Why should I?"

"I can't answer that for you, sir," Richard said evasively. "But I'm hoping that you would want to fuck her and would accept my apology for my behavior." His mouth was dry. He could barely get his words out.

"How does this feel, Richard?"

"I've had better days, sir."

"Don't be glib, asshole. Tell me how you feel." Jay was menacing.

"I feel humiliated. I hate standing here in front of you, answering to you, addressing you as sir, begging you to fuck my wife."

"Then why are you here?" Jay was enjoying this. Richard knew there was only one acceptable answer to this question.

"Because I love Clara. I want her to be happy. She wants you." As soon as he said those words, he knew they were true. He could feel his will shrinking to something Jay could pick up and put in his pocket, if he cared to.

"I think maybe you enjoy suffering, Richard," Jay said.

"I'm beginning to wonder about that myself, sir."

"You have no idea how hard that makes me, Richard," Jay said. "Come over here."

Richard walked around to the other side of Jay's desk.

"On your knees."

"Yes, sir." His response was unthinking, instant. Richard dropped to his knees.

Jay bent over, taking Richard's hand in his own. He slid Richard's trembling fingers over his erection, straining against his trousers. Richard gasped. He'd never been so close to another man's erect cock. He thought about what it would be like to stroke Jay's cock through his pants. What was that like for Clara? He understood in that moment why Clara hungered for Jay's cock. He imagined unzipping Jay's trousers. . .

"You're very different this morning than you were the other night. I like you better like this." Jay lifted Richard's hand off his erection. Richard wondered if Jay knew he was excited by it. "I think we understand each other a little better now, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," Richard whispered.

"Now, get out of my office," Jay said. Richard rose, walked self-consciously across the room.

As he reached for the door, Jay called after him, "Tell Clara she'll be hearing from me."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

Richard slipped out the door meekly, shuffling toward the elevators.

He pressed the button. He stood there, waiting to leave. Time crawled. There as a ding. The doors opened. Helen ‑— Clara and Jay's boss — emerged from the elevator.

"Richard, it's so good to see you," she said. Richard's mind flashed back to the Christmas party where Helen introduced Clara to Jay.

"Uh, you, too, Helen," Richard stammered. He tried half-heartedly to get around her to get into the elevator. The doors slid shut behind her. He heard the car descending. Helen smiled. Like a predator.

"You must come to my office. I have something I think you should see," she said. Her tone implied she would not take no for an answer. She took Richard by the wrist, leading him to another corner of the executive floor.

She dragged him through a pair of double doors into an office that was much larger, far more luxurious than Jay's. The walls were paneled in dark walnut. Abstract expressionist paintings decorated the room. He recognized — could it be? — an original Rothko and a de Kooning. The others he couldn't identify.

Helen turned to look at Richard. He looked at her. She was petite, slender. Her face, with its translucent skin, high cheekbones and thin lips, was timeless. She could be anywhere from fifty to God only knew.

She was dressed in a white silk dress so tight it seemed she had been sewn into it. Underneath, Richard could make out the shadows of lace. The buttons on the front of her dress were undone between her breasts. She was slender; her breasts were small, pert, but full.

Richard felt her considering him. She released his wrist, touched his face, gently tipping it so their eyes met.

"You're more handsome than I remember," she said.

"That's me. Forgetably handsome," Richard joked. Helen smiled in a way that made Richard feel clever, charming.

Richard knew better than to trust her, but he couldn't help feeling attracted to her. It welled inside him like a bubbling spring.

Helen put her hand on his chest, her heat obvious through his shirt. She could feel, he knew, his heart beating fast, hard, hear its random beat. She slid her hand slowly down his torso toward. . .

Richard grabbed her hand before she reached his cock. He longed to feel her hand on him, but he didn't want her to feel the steel cage enclosing it.

"Please, don't," he pleaded.

Helen slipped out of his grip, reaching for his crotch.

"Oh, Richard! Clara has imprisoned your manhood." she said. "Show me!" She was giddy now.

Richard said nothing. Helen slowly unzipped his trousers. She reached into his boxers, exposing his shame.

"Oh, my God," she said. "It's beautiful! Clara has exquisite taste." She smiled at him, slightly parting her lips to show her teeth. "Don't be shy, Richard. I think it's hot." She looked deep into his eyes. He knew it was true.

"I have something for you," she said. She reached under the collar of her dress pulled out a gold chain. Dangling from the chain was a small brass key. Richard gaped at it.

"How did you..." he began.

"Clara has no secrets from me, Richard. It's a condition of being my protégé," Helen said. "But everything that happens between you and me is a secret. You may not tell Clara without my permission," she warned. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, Helen."

"Now, would you like me to unlock you?"

"Yes, but..."

"Don't worry, Richard. Clara wouldn't have given me a key if she didn't want me to unlock you for my own purposes." Richard considered this.

"Yes, then, please unlock me," he said, finally.

Helen unlocked the cage with a single expert motion. She pulled off the cage, slowly massaging his throbbing cock back to life. Richard could feel it warming in her hand. Then, he could feel himself getting hard as she stroked him.

"Mmm," she said. "Very nice. I like your cock. You never know what you're going to find, especially on a man in chastity." Richard's cock was now fully erect. He could hardly believe what was happening.

Just as he was about to climax, Helen slipped her hand off the end of Richard's erection, leaving him unsatisfied. She smiled as Richard grimaced. She looked deep into Richard's eyes. He wanted her. She knew it. But . . . what did she want?

"Breathe slowly," she said, reaching to gently stroke his erection. Her soft, warm hand made his cock pulse. He looked down. Her nipples were stiff with excitement. He imagined what it would feel like to cup her breasts through the silk.

"Don't touch me," she warned, as if she could hear his thoughts. She was now lightly twisting the head of his cock. The sensation was exquisite. Again, before he realized that he was about to come, she slid her hand off. His erection bounced, throbbing in mid-air. He moaned in frustration.

Helen leered at him. She was turned on, but she was keeping her distance. Was she turned on by Richard, or was she turned on by torturing him? Was he just a convenient victim?

"I'm glad you resolved things with Jay," she said. How did she know that? "I want Clara to accompany Jay to my New Year's Eve party on Thursday. I had planned publicly to introduce them as a couple at my little bacchanal. Your stupid stunt last week nearly ruined my plans."

Richard was flummoxed. He didn't know anything about the party or that Helen was following all this so closely. Or that she had a stake in Jay fucking Clara.

Helen resumed stroking his cock. He could barely stand the rhythmic friction. He was having trouble focusing on his outrage, slipping into submission.

"You're not invited to my party, of course," she said. He moaned with frustration and desire. He hated Helen for her manipulations, but was grateful for her stroking.

"Clara has a date, after all," she continued. Richard nodded. He was feeling helpless. Please don't stop stroking me, he thought. Please let me come. I need to come in your hand.

"But I have a proposition for you. I need servants for the evening. You'd be serving my guests. Providing them with whatever they need," she said with a smile. "I want you there. I hope you'll agree to be our servant for the evening."

Richard tried to think about what he'd be agreeing to, but his mind was blank. His field of vision had narrowed; blood was pounding in his ears. Helen locked eyes with him. He couldn't look away. He did not dare to. He was simultaneously miserable and aroused.

"If you accept, you must agree not speak until spoken to. You will fulfill my guests' every wish. Do you understand?" Richard nodded, dimly.

"But I think you'll enjoy that." She was right. The idea turned him on. He needed to come. Helen opened her hand. He pumped his cock against it. Please. Please.

"I know that Clara will be very excited to have you there. Although you will not be permitted to speak to her or even approach her without her permission." He could feel the cum rising at the base of his cock.

"Yes, I'll do it," he said, breathlessly. Helen smiled.

"Do you want an orgasm?" she asked. Richard could feel the pressure mounting in his cock. He needed to come. Helen released his cock. She gently petted it. Holding him at the edge of climax. "It will be our little secret."

Richard hesitated. He wanted desperately to come all over her white silk dress. But he knew Clara would not be pleased to have had his desire for release satisfied. Even if it was Helen who had done it.

"Please, no," he begged. "Please don't let me come without Clara's permission." Helen stepped away from him, releasing his erection.