Chapter 5: Keeping the Burn Alive
Before we left Marguerite’s, we had to change back into something a little more substantial than the silk dressing gown I had on or Jack’s silk pajama bottoms. Jack had me put the beige corset on, along with the seamed taupe stockings and the amazing black patent six-plus-inch platform heels Marguerite had dressed me in on Saturday afternoon. Over this I had on my white cotton blouse and wool skirt from Saturday.
I frowned at the heels. “Jack, I absolutely love the way these heels look on me, but they are going to be tough to walk in. We have several pair of new heels in the car that we bought Saturday, any of which would be easier to walk in than these. Don’t you think…?”
Jack snorted. “How much walking do you think you’re going to need to do in a two-hour ride in the car?”
“Well, admittedly, not a lot, but when we get to the school…”
“I will park close enough so that you don’t need to walk very far.”
“Well, you’re the boss, but you have no idea what it’s like to walk in these very high heels. I was just getting used to the four-inch heels you bought me several weeks ago.”
“I’ll take it easy on you, I promise. If I can’t get close enough, we’ll swap them out for some of the lower heels we bought. OK?”
“OK, that sounds fair.”
The doorman had the car ready for us when we got outside. We got ourselves and all the plunder Marguerite had given us loaded into the car and headed out of town. As soon as we got out of the suburbs, Jack started driving down the “back way,” as we called it, secondary roads that avoided the main highway back to his school. Jack soon pulled over on a wooded lane and stopped.
He looked over at me. “Vanessa, I want you to take off your blouse and your skirt, and put them in the back seat.”
I looked at him questioningly, but did as I was told. That left me in the open cup corset, stockings, heels, and my winning personality.
He then pulled back onto the main road, still a back road really, and continued driving. His hand situated itself back between my legs, as was his custom now, and began to play with the lips of my bare pussy.
“Lean your seat back a little, Vanessa, and your upper body won’t be as noticeable to passing cars.”
Again I followed his instructions wordlessly.
Jack’s fondling of my pussy, combined with the submissive feeling of being dressed for him but exposed at the same time, began to rev my motor. I found my own hands reaching up for my nipples as he continued to play with me below.
I put my right heel up on the dash, where he and I both could see it, and used the leverage to push up against his hand where it touched my pussy. I was really getting hot! My breathing began to get ragged, and I began to want more than just his hand in my pussy. I wanted cock!
Just as I thought I couldn’t stand any more, and was going to ask him to pull off and find a rest area, or a private street, or ANYPLACE we could fuck, he did. Pull off, I mean.
It turned out we hadn’t been heading directly for the school, but had taken a slight deviation (!!) in our route to reach his parents’ lake cabin.
My mind had been totally into the play and I had lost track of turns and direction long ago, so when he slowed down and turned into the driveway I didn’t have any idea where we were at first. Add to this the fact that we almost never came here in daylight, and you can imagine my initial confusion at pulling up to a house.
He stopped, and came around to my side to open the door. I stepped out, a little unsteadily at first, but the driveway was paved and not difficult to walk on. Leaving my outer clothes behind, he led me into the detached garage. We then continued up the stairs to a second, unfinished level that was used for storage. I was still almost naked and walked very carefully in the extreme heels.
Jack went over to a set of shelves and took down a box that appeared old and unused, but turned out to contain some items that looked anything but. He brought out a set of leather cuffs joined by a short chain and wordlessly fastened my wrists into them, securing each with a small padlock. Then he took a length of what looked to be nylon climbing rope and threw it over an exposed beam. He tied one end of the rope to the chain joining my wrists and began to haul on it until I was standing just on tiptoes, even in the tall heels I had on. Then he tied it off on another piece of the garage framework and left me, just barely touching the floor.
Jack went back downstairs and I could hear the trunk of his car open and shut. He returned to the upper level where I hung from wrists and tiptoes. In his hand were the paddle, flogger, and harness gag that Marguerite had given us only a couple of hours earlier.
Throughout this whole process neither of us had said a word. When we got out of the car, I was hot and ready to fuck. It was becoming obvious that Jack had something else on his mind. It still made me hot, to be bound and helpless, so exposed in front of him. Maybe even hotter.
Jack took a few moments, behind my back, to examine his new tools, I guess. Then he began to fit the gag to my face. It was similar to the gag that had been strapped onto me the night of the “scene” only in the sense that it had a ball and locked in the back. This one actually had a harness that ran under my chin and upwards across my face, on either side of my nose, to a link at my forehead, and then continued back across the top of the head and connected in the back. Hanging loose from one side of the strap which actually held the ball in my mouth was a flap. I wasn’t sure what that was for.
Jack pulled the ball deep into my mouth and completed buckling and adjusting the harness until it was tight under my chin, over my head, and across my cheeks. Then I found out what the flap was for. He pulled it snugly across the already well-seated ball and buckled it on the opposite side. This was an effective gag! I had the ball pulled into my mouth, the straps holding my chin up so it couldn’t move down to free any space in the mouth, and the flap, or panel, buckled across the ball in case any noise wasn’t contained. Much later, I learned that this was referred to as a “panel gag” and also presented a smooth appearance across the front.
At the current moment, my thoughts were more about, flogger or paddle? And, this was probably going to hurt! And, when would we fuck?
My first question was answered quickly, and unexpectedly. The paddle struck my ass, hard, about four times. Wow! There was a distinct “thud” as it hit my flesh and then, as the paddle lifted, more of a “sting.” That hurt!
I swung wildly from my hands, trying unconsciously to escape the paddle, although somehow I wanted it too. Jack held me by the hips for a moment and said, “Hold still, Vanessa!” Those were the first words he had spoken since we arrived at the lake cabin.
Then he started in with the flogger on my ass. He was avoiding the back, since I had the corset on and still was smarting from the belt on Friday night. He gave me several stripes with the full length, and then he experimented with pulling the stroke so just the tips connected, as Marguerite had suggested. He went at my ass for quite a while, alternating the techniques, getting the mastery of the tool (and me). Despite his command, I found myself flinching and swinging to escape the sting of the flogger.
Then he started in the front. I was crying by this time, the tears ruining my eye shadow and eyeliner and running down along the straps that partially covered my face and then down over the gag panel. He worked over my breasts and thighs mercilessly, trying to avoid damaging the nylon stockings and of course not hitting me where the corset covered me. I could see this was an effort for him, but at the same time I could see he was worked up. He was hitting me hard and breathing heavily, from the physical effort and from….something else.
Then he stopped, the flogger hanging limply from his hand, and just looked at me, saying nothing. He left me hanging there and went into the house. He returned shortly and climbed the stairs again.
The next thing I heard was him dragging a chair up behind me. The next thing I felt was his fingers lubricating my ass. He then released the rope and sat down. With the rope released I fell into his lap. He held my ass cheeks up long enough to get his cock centered on my little ring and then took me with full force, no hesitation, no tenderness. His rigid cock slammed all the way into me and I tried to scream. He stood up from the chair, put me back on my high-heeled feet and proceeded to slam me as hard as he could. His hips were slapping my well-whipped ass and it hurt dammit!
I was crying uncontrollably, in fear, in pain, in shame, not knowing exactly what was happening, thinking “it’s Jack, there must be a reason!” with one part of my brain and another part of the same brain frantically trying to figure out how to say “crawdad” with my mouth very effectively gagged. I could feel his moves getting harder and faster, so I knew he was close to cumming, but there would be no orgasm for me.
Finally I felt his spurts against my insides (my sigmoid colon, hah! I had finally looked it up) and then things settled down. He relaxed back into the chair and allowed me to slump fully onto him. As his cock shriveled up in my behind, he pulled my arms down to my sides (still joined by the chain and the affixed rope) and held me tight from behind.
I felt his face come up close to my ear from behind and whisper, “I love you, Vanessa.” I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I love you. You are mine. You will always be mine. You are my most precious possession, and I will NEVER let you go. I don’t care how many cocks go inside you, or how many pussies you put your tongue in, and I don’t care how many tongues go in your pussy. You are mine, and always will be.
“Marguerite wants you. I can see it in her eyes, I can feel it when she is with you, I hear it in her voice. But you are MINE. Do you understand?”
I nodded vigorously. I DID understand. And, I think I understood the intensity of his assault against me today. I also felt something else…he held his head next to mine, from behind, and I could feel his tears wet against my neck.
Jack unbuckled the gag and pulled it free of my face. He then reached around and untied the rope from the chain between my cuffs. He stood me up again, pulled up his undershorts and pants, and dug around in his pocket like he was looking for the key to the locks on my wrists.
“Don’t unlock them yet. I want to stay your prisoner for awhile.”
He helped me walk down the stairs, out of the garage and up the walkway to the wrap-around deck. We walked out on the deck which had a beautiful view of the lake. There was a slight breeze. It was not yet mid-day on Sunday. I was essentially naked, my breasts, pussy and ass exposed, walking on six-plus-inch heels, my hands cuffed together, my back covered with welts from Friday night, my ass thighs and breasts covered with welts delivered today.
Jack guided and steadied me with his hand. There was no one to see, I believed, but it felt sexy to be exposed like this.
“It’s a shame there’s no one to see me.” I said quietly.
Jack looked at me, a little surprised. “You’d like someone to see you like this?”
“Yes. I’m proud to be yours. I’m proud you love me enough to master me, to whip me. If you didn’t care, if you didn’t love me, if you weren’t at least a little jealous of Marguerite’s obvious lust for me, I would be disappointed. It scared me a little, your fury in there, but you haven’t disappointed me.”
“You know, it’s funny, in a way.” He said. “One of my fantasies is to have you paraded like this, maybe with a collar or other obvious marking, in front of people. I guess doing it in front of Marguerite is as close as we’ll get.”
I turned to face him. “Then that’s what we’ll do then. When we get married. You know we will need to have a traditional wedding service, for our families and friends, but then we should have a special, private ceremony. Marguerite can come, and DeeDee and Rick, and perhaps there will be some others by then. You will have me paraded, and I will become your slave as well as your wife.”
Jack looked at me for a long moment. “You are amazing. Is it any surprise that I love you? That I consider you my most precious possession? That I vowed never to let you go?”
I leaned close to him. “No. It doesn’t surprise me. I know you love me. You love me enough to hurt me when it has to be done. That takes real strength, because I know doesn’t come easy for you.”
We turned after that and went back into the house. He released my hands at that point and let me go to the bathroom to clean up. He, meanwhile, went out to the car to put away the gag and the other items. He also picked up my purse and brought it back to me. Then he also cleaned himself up.
I started working to repair the damage to my makeup in the mirror while he watched. “It’s amazing to me how beautiful you are, even with the tears streaking your makeup.”
I looked over at him, no longer concerned that he saw me through “love-colored glasses.” He did, of course, but I was beautiful. I could see it in the mirror, I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in Marguerite’s eyes. Maybe I was no fashion model or Hollywood starlet, but I was beautiful just the same. I had turned into a fucking great catch, for the right fisherman…or fisherwoman.
“Oh, you just say that because it’s true.” I teased.
He laughed. “It is absolutely true. Seriously, I think you are more beautiful every day. There’s a sense about you, a feeling in the air when you are near, it’s like your desirability extends beyond the range of human sight into another dimension, like sound that’s too high-pitched for the human ear.”
I looked at him and smiled. “What an interesting way of putting it. But you know, I have noticed that, on occasion, something that could or should be ordinary seems to have a more erotic feeling. It’s hard to describe; I’ve been thinking that it’s perhaps my own perception, that I see things as being more erotic, when they’re actually ordinary. But I’m not sure.”
He said nothing, just stroked my leg, down to the stocking top.
Then he spoke. “Don’t spend too much time on the makeup, I think I may just have to mess it up again.”
I turned to him and said, “Seriously?” He nodded his head, then dragged a cushion off a nearby chair and threw it at his feet, then sat in the chair.
Without a word, I put down the brush I was holding and knelt at his feet. I opened his pants and helped him pull them down. I took out his cock and began to lick it, willing it to rise with my tongue and mouth. Despite his recent orgasm in my ass (all praise the youthful pecker) it shortly began to show some life again. I sucked each one of his balls and licked and sucked the head and the sensitive underside.
I tried to remember what Marguerite had done to reposition herself to take him all the way inside her throat. I scooted back on my knees a little to elongate my body some, so that instead of his cock coming into my mouth perpendicular to my neck, it was more in-line with the neck. And I focused intently on relaxing my throat. Then I reached around to his hips and pulled myself onto his cock.
It worked! It wasn’t easy, but he was letting me control the action at this point, so I was able to move back and forth, accepting him deep into my throat at one moment and the next backing off to give my throat (and mouth) some literal breathing room. I knew I needed to adjust to the choking feeling quickly, because he would take over soon and I had to be ready. As his erection reached its full size, it became more and more difficult to get the space I needed.
Just as I was realizing that I was almost at my limit, he took over. I knew from now on it was “ride the bronco” time and just take what he dished out. His hands were in my hair holding my head. I was no longer sucking him or controlling him, he was fucking my mouth – hard. He gave me about ten good thrusts and then, just when I thought I would black out from lack of air, he pulled out.
He looked at me, breath ragged, sweat dripping from his brow, and said, “That was nice, but get on the bed, now, slut, I want to fuck you!”
No further commands were needed, I did as I was told, corset, heels, welts and all, and spread my legs for him. He plunged into me without hesitation (needless to say, I was already wet from the cock-sucking episode) and began to fuck me, hard. He was up on his knees, slamming me with long, deep thrusts. I wrapped my stocking-clad legs around his thighs, heedless of the pain on the front and inside my thighs, my ankles locked together, the outrageous heels waving in the air.
It wasn’t long for either of us – sucking his cock while being on my knees in front of him, particularly being able (at last) to deep-throat him – was wonderfully submissive and erotic for me, and his dick in my pussy was icing on the cake. I apparently had done an adequate (hah!) job of getting him aroused with my deep-throat action and he was close to the edge also.
Within moments I felt the hot jets of his semen splashing against my cervix as his pulsing cock drummed and throbbed inside of me. I reveled in the feel for just a moment, and reflected for milliseconds on my dress, my marks, my total submission to him – and felt the familiar and welcome feeling of my own orgasm roll over me.
We lay there, exhausted, snuggling, for probably half an hour. Finally, however, Jack leaned over and said, “I hate to introduce the real world, but we still have to get to my school so you can pick up your car and go back to your school!”
I nodded reluctantly, and we got up and began to pull ourselves together. I finished my makeup repairs (recently interrupted by WILD SEX woohoo!) and Jack gathered things up and put them back in the car.
“Jack,” I asked tentatively, “do you know if there is any aloe vera cream or any plants up here?”
He looked at me questioningly. “Marguerite showed me that it could help the pain of the whip marks.”
“I know my mother likes that stuff too. Let me look around.”
Sure enough, he was able to find a bottle of aloe vera gel in a squeeze bottle under his mother’s side of the sink in their bathroom. He smoothed it over my flesh with soothing caresses, and both felt wonderful! I had been really concerned about my ability to sit all the way back to his school, but I felt I could make it now.
Jack wanted me to finish the trip in my current state of undress, and I was in no position to refuse. He did stop, however, about a half-hour from the school and found a quiet place where I could get my blouse and skirt back on.
When we got back to the school, he found a place to park that (at least in his opinion) was close enough for me to walk in the black heels. So walk I did. If I thought I had gotten attention walking across campus on Friday night, now with seamed stockings and the tall platform heels on, the attention was at least doubled.
That attention continued in the suite. Andy greeted us at the door and I thought his eyes were going to pop out.
And Siller had returned from his weekend with his girlfriend, who was sitting on his bed with him when we walked in.
“Holy Sheeeit!” he exclaimed, “Who the hell is this, Jack my man?”
“Come on, Siller, you’ve met Van…Jeannie before.”
“This is Jeannie? Holy crap man, she looks so different, and I don’t just mean the killer heels either. Something about you is different, girl. Seriously. But it looks good. You look good. Ow!”
Siller recoiled from the jab in the kidney delivered by his girlfriend sitting beside him.
I laughed. “Well thanks, Siller, I think. Hi Nicole, how are YOU doing?”
“Pretty good, except I’m still stuck with Silly here.” She grinned back.
“Siller, girl, rhymes with killer, you know? Don’ be messin’ with my rep!”
Everybody laughed.
I looked at Nicole with new interest. We had met a few times, even double-dated once. But like Jack and Siller both said, I was different now.
Where Siller was very dark, not purple-dark like some African students I had met, but still pretty dark, Nicole was almost deep copper-colored. She had her brown hair in a loose curly perm, a style that Whitney Houston had made popular that year. She was also slender and athletic-looking. I thought I remembered that she was a track & field star in high school and had continued running in college, maybe at the intramural level.
I realized that maybe I was looking too long, or too weird, or something, when she caught my eye and smiled warmly back and then looked away. Oh my God, was this the way I was going to be? Finding something erotic under every rock? Yeah, probably, I thought smugly. Vanessa’s come a long way since “plain Jeannie!”
“Jack, I need to go to the bathroom, and then I need to get on the road. Believe it or not, I am supposed to do a little studying before Monday raises its ugly head.”
Nicole chimed in. “Me too, I need to go, one of you studs guard the door please.”
Jack cleared the bathroom and then took first watch, and Nicole and I went inside.
“You know, you do look different, Jeannie. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but it does look good. You look happy, and…sexier somehow. Like Siller said, it’s not just the heels, and the stockings, although they do look pretty hot. I did notice that you don’t appear to be wearing a bra under that blouse, although you are wearing something. Bravo to you, whatever works. One more thing…I heard you guys had a fight, but that you made up. Is that right?”
“Yes,” I replied, “it was pretty bad, but we worked through it, and I think we’re stronger for it now.” I was sorting out my skirt as I was coming out of the toilet stall, not thinking clearly I guess.
Nicole’s eyes got wide. “What the hell, Jeannie, are you OK?” She exclaimed.
Oh shit. Nicole had seen the garter stockings and the whip marks on the front and inside of my upper thighs.
“Oh, I’m fine, it’s just a little game Jack and I were playing.”
“‘Little game,’ huh? I have half a mind to go in there and have a ‘little word’ with your abuser. What the fuck is going on?”
“Nicole, seriously, I’m fine.” I looked her in the eye. “I wanted this. Understand me? I’m not self-destructive, I don’t hurt myself on purpose, I’m not sick or crazy, Jack is not sick or crazy. This is all fully consensual. Got it?”
She looked at me for a long moment, her almond-shaped eyes flashing and her mouth in a tight line. “OK. If you insist. But I’m going to be paying attention. Here, let me write down my phone number.” She pulled a pen and pad from her handbag and wrote it down quickly. “You know I have my own apartment. You can talk to me, you can even stay with me, if you need to. You know what I’m sayin’?” Her voice rose a little. “Don’t you dare let some son of a bitch talk you into taking his BULLSHIT because you have nowhere to go, or nobody to talk to. You hear me?”
I nodded and took the number.
Her eyes and tone softened a little. “Jeannie, you are truly a beautiful girl. Inside and out. I know you care for Jack, but guys can get pretty pushy when they think they have you all tied up, whether it’s a steady thing or an engagement or even marriage. Don’t you ever feel that you have to ‘settle’ for a relationship that is full of abuse of any kind, much less physical abuse. I’ve seen it. And I know how hard it is to walk away from a ‘sure thing.’ So keep your head on straight, and call me – anytime, day or night – if you need to talk. Your confidence is safe with me, I promise.”
“Thanks, Nicole, I appreciate it. And I appreciate your concern. But seriously, I’ve got this, you don’t need to worry about it.”
“OK then. You’re a big girl. But you keep my number, OK? Feel free to talk to me about anything.”
“I will, Nicole, and thanks.”
We opened the door of the bathroom. Jack, who had been guarding the door, looked at us a little curiously, but said nothing.
“Jack, can you help me get my things to the car?”
“Sure, Jeannie. And we have a few items in my car that I need to give you.”
We collected my suitcase and makeup bag and walked out to the parking lot. I grimaced a little at the looks and attention I got, now just wanting to hide a little since enduring Nicole’s reaction.
Jack finally said, “Are you OK, darling?”
I told him what had transpired in the bathroom with Nicole.
“Whew,” he finally said, “that’s not so great. I would hate for someone to report us to the authorities, or even our parents. We might have a little difficulty explaining ourselves, and I’m sure we would encounter a lot of resistance, particularly from YOUR parents. Perhaps we’ve been moving too fast.”
I looked up at him as we walked. “Jack, I know you’re right. But just so you know, I like where we are going. I’m happy, I feel wonderful, I don’t feel abused. But I guess we have to be careful, our kind of love has to stay private.”
We reached his car. “We need to get all the stuff out of my car and carry it to your car. You know, the pants and shoes we bought on Saturday and all the stuff Marguerite gave us.”
“All the stuff?” I lowered my voice. “Including the whipping stuff?”
“No, I’ll keep those. But all the clothes. You need to try them on, get familiar with them. Wash them of course.”
So we added to our load the items from Jack’s car. Fortunately, my little Chevy was not far. These heels were not made for beasts of burden!
At my car, after packing away all the items we had acquired, Jack suggested we sit in the car for a few minutes.
Inside, with the windows rolled down a little for air, he wanted to talk some more.
“Vanessa, you’ve got to digest some of this. I have to digest some of this. Think where we were Friday – just two days ago! We almost came apart. And since then, you got me to whip you, and then there was Marguerite and everything that happened with her, and then there was my reaction to it this morning.
“It occurred to me later, that your safeword was worthless if you were gagged. Did you think about using it this morning?”
I lowered my head. “Yes, when you pulled me down on your cock. I was bewildered. I had been so hot in the car, and your tying me up and gagging me made me hotter. Even the whipping did. It just suddenly became all too much, when you pulled me down on you. I knew with one part of my mind that there had to be a reason, a justification, for why you were treating me so roughly, and I think I knew in my heart what it was. But in another part I was scared.”
He reached over and took my hand. “It scared me too. I thought I was losing control. I thought about wanting to hurt you. I don’t like feeling that way. We’ve moved so fast – the experience with Marguerite was fun, and educational, and I don’t regret any of it. And, I promised she could train you. But I guess I got scared that maybe I would lose you to her. What a strange feeling, to be jealous of a woman! But it was real, and I think you know it too.”
I nodded. “I enjoyed sex with her. She taught me that I could like having sex with another woman. And I know she wants me, but I’m yours. That’s never going to change. OK?”
“OK.” He responded simply. “Now, to at least make me feel better, show me you can make the Vulcan sign. You know, from Star Trek.”
“What? That was some weird change of subject.” I displayed the famous “V” sign by separating the four long fingers on each hand. “Oh, I get it. Safeword.”
“Yep. Same deal. You can use it any time you want to stop the action. Same consequences. You have to explain yourself, and the explanation better be good, or there could be punishment.”
I remembered the last time we had this discussion, when we established my “crawdad” safeword, I had wondered what that meant. Now I knew. “So if I use one of my safe-symbols to stop you whipping me, and you’re not happy with the reason, you might whip me?”
“Well, yes, that could be a punishment. Or it could be something else. Like denial of orgasm or making you wear something really uncomfortable, or…something. I don’t know! I’m just as new to this as you are!”
We both laughed, and hugged, and the hug became something else, as his lips found mine.
Finally we broke apart.
“OK, now for serious stuff. Just because you are going back to school doesn’t mean you are free of obeying me. I want you to start keeping a journal of what you eat and how you exercise. I want you to try to do aerobics or something cardio-related twice or three times a week. I want you to wash and try on all the clothes, and at least try on a pair of the open crotch pantyhose.
“And I want you to get used to wearing your new shoes, particularly the ones Marguerite gave us. I really like the way those look on you!
“And you know, I’m going to go to sleep tonight thinking about ‘parading’ you on our wedding day. Wow!”
I knew I would go to sleep thinking about that too.
He got out of the car too soon, I thought, but I knew it was time to leave.
“I love you, Vanessa!” He called through the open window.
“I love you too, Jack.” And I reluctantly drove away.
-to be continued-
