She nudged the cereal bowl away with her nose. Mark looked up from his scrambled eggs. "Not hungry, bitch?" he asked.
Abby nodded yes and fixed her gaze to Mark's crotch. He was silent a moment. "Hungry for my cock?" he asked.
She nodded again.
He took a bite of eggs. "It won't change anything. Besides, we don't have time. Your training is ending early. I'm taking your ass and then you're going home."
Abby didn't mind not being able to speak because she didn't know what she would say to that. She waited patiently for Mark to finish his breakfast.
In the bathroom, Mark attached her to the floor and used the bar again to spread her feet. She took the warm salt water enema without complaint and did not cry when she had to evacuate in front of him. He washed her in the shower, dried her, and replaced all her restraints. He put a plug in her, but it was one of the medium sized ones and in truth she barely even noticed it.
He led her down the hall to the bedroom. Abby discovered that at this point, she wasn't even all that nervous, so many things had been shoved in and out of her ass this weekend that Mark's cock would probably feel good by comparison.
He bid her to stand by the bed and fished two large straps out of the dresser drawer. He buckled first one, then the other, around her thighs. Her first thought was that Sabrina had been measuring her for restraints, though what anyone needed their thighs restrained for was a mystery to Abby.
He took the pillows off the bed and stacked them neatly in the corner. He laid her down, face up, which was also odd to her, and drew out two chains attached to each end of the head board. He secured her wrists to them.
Then he took two snap hooks and latched her ankle cuffs to her thigh cuffs, drawing her knees up almost to her chest, but still allowing her legs to part. It was an odd position, but not uncomfortable. She wondered if he was going to fuck her pussy first then turn her over.
She watched him undress, pulling off his gray t-shirt and jeans and boxer briefs and laying them on the chair. From the nightstand drawer he retrieved a bottle of lube and got up on the bed, kneeling between her spread thighs. He poured some into his hand and with the other, pulled out the plug. He set it aside and rubbed the lube all over and inside her ass. Then he reached down, grabbed hold of his cock, and slowly leaned into her, pushing the head against her entrance.
Abby couldn't believe that they were doing anal facing each other. She'd never imagined that to be possible. But after he inserted the head, he took hold of her legs and pushed them back, rotating her hips and giving him full access to her. He slowly pushed inside.
She gasped as he stretched her, holding back a groan. He worked his way in an inch at a time. She was breathing through clenched teeth.
When he was fully seated inside her, he held himself still, allowing her body to adjust to him. He slipped one hand down between them and began to gently massage her clit. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations. She felt full, but not hurting. Her clit was coming to life. He slipped a finger in her pussy and worked it around. Soon she was panting with excitement. Then the fucking began.
He braced himself on the bed with one hand, still playing with her with the other and began slowly moving in and out of her. His tongue touched her nipple and an electric current shot straight to her clit. She grabbed the chains and started trying some way, any way, to fuck him back.
God, it felt so good. He licked the other nipple and then bit it gently. She cried out, pulling on the chains, back arching. He pinched her clit and she came. Hard. there was nothing inside her pussy so her juices leaked out, covering the base of his cock. He thrust harder taking only a few measured strokes before releasing inside her. She could feel each throb as his cock swelled, stretching her. He waited until the pumping subsided then carefully pulled out, replacing himself with the metal plug. Abby was so dazed she barely noticed.
He got dressed and unshackled her. The last thing to go was the collar and she felt a momentary pang at its loss. He'd laid her clothes out for her on the chair back and left the room.
Abby's mind was a flood of thoughts as she dressed. First off, in retrospect it seemed silly that she'd been so afraid of it. It had been good. More than good. Pleasurable even. She'd had a better time doing anal than she'd ever had with straight sex with previous boyfriends. But it was oddly hollow and she knew why.
There was no connection. It had been lost. Or buried. Or severed. He hadn't looked at her eyes so she'd closed them to avoid thinking about it. He hadn't called her his good girl. He hadn't driven her wild with desire and she knew from experience he was more than capable of that. She wondered if it was over between them. She was too afraid to ask.
She slipped on her sandals and left the bedroom. Mark was in the living room, sitting in a chair. She spied a large Nordstrom's bag by the door. A glance inside showed her her purse on top. She didn't know what to do or what to say. "Goodbye" sounded permanent. "See you soon" left him the opportunity to say, "I think not."
So, Abby flipped the lock on the front door, picked up the bag and said the only thing that came to mind. "I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted." Then she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
When she got home, she went straight to her own bathroom, which was nowhere near as nice as Mark's she thought for the umpteenth time. She set the bag down on the toilet lid and got undressed. She removed the plug and ran a bath for herself. Inside the bag her lingerie had been laid on top so she took it out and set it on the counter. He'd included the panties which she'd never gotten to wear.
Next came her makeup. She set it down on the counter as well. Marveling at his generosity. She pulled out the shampoo bottles and the extra bars of soap he'd apparently stocked up on. She froze.
At the bottom of the bag was a dove gray box. She didn't even need to see the side to know what it said.
Make me proud, and I will give you another, better, present.
Holding her breath, she pulled the box out of the bag and took the lid off. Tears stung her eyes as she looked inside. A pair of size 8 black leather five inch heels gleamed in the light of the bathroom.
Motherfucking Jimmy Choos. He’d remembered. She sat down on the floor and sobbed.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Tex swore and threw the wrench that had just slipped, again, and smashed his thumb. It hit the tool chest and left a small dent in the metal.
Hawk looked up. “Try not to destroy the place, cowboy.”
Tex scowled, but said nothing.
“Not for nothing,” Hawk said, standing up and wiping his hands on a rag. “But how long are you planning on moping around like a kid who lost his favorite toy?”
Tex shook his head. “I’m not moping.”
Hawk smirked. “Cowboy, that’s some Grade A moping you’re doing. The only people who mope better than you are twelve year old girls.”
“Shut up.”
“Can you just say you’re sorry?” Hawk replied.
Tex sighed. “Fuck off.”
“Not to me, dummy. To her!”
Tex sighed again and shook his head. “No.”
“You are one stubborn asshole,” Hawk declared.
“It’s more than that,” Tex admitted. “We’re not right for each other. I knew it wasn’t gonna last. It’s no surprise.”
“Nothing ever lasts with you,” Hawk pointed out. “But this is the first time I’ve seen you give a shit that it didn’t.” Tex didn’t resond. “So fucking apologize already and get your woman back. Maybe you should get on
your
knees. I bet that’d work.”
Tex picked up a second wrench. “I wouldn’t be opposed. I’m not too good to grovel. But everything’s moving way too fast. If I didn’t slow the train down, it was going to derail and take both of us out.”
“Sure about that?” Hawk asked. “Could’ve just been in for a wild ride.”
Tex shook his head. “Can’t say it would be worth the risk.”
Hawk laughed. Tex glared at him. “Never thought
you’d
be worried about taking a risk.”
Tex turned his back on his friend and re-focused on the engine in front of him.
****
Abby took a rare day off and fired up her laptop. After a few days of crying and cleaning out the local grocery store of Haagen-Daas she’d decided it would be more productive to simply get Mark back. Which, unfortunately was easier said than done. She knew he’d withdrawn from her for asking too many questions. He’d already told her that he wouldn’t entertain her curiousity. She’d panicked when she thought he was looking for slave and broke that rule pretty thoroughly.
Now that she was calmer, she thought maybe she’d better find out exactly what it was she was so afraid of. Because it occured to her that she had a lot of opinions for someone who knew nothing about BDSM before meeting Mark. So far, everything Mark had showed her had been initially frightening, but ultimately acceptable. Granted peeing on the lawn was a low point in their relationship, but she’d brought that on herself and had no one else to blame for it.
And how could she be angry with Mark for holding back when that was all she. herself, ever did?
Love was about sacrifice. That much she’d always understood and believed. And so far, Abby had done none of the sacrificing. It was Mark who was putting off the things he truly wanted in an effort to make Abby comfortable and happy. She felt like a petulant child in the wake of her outburst. Like a little girl throwing a fit because she didn’t get everything she wanted. Even if Mark wanted a slave, he hadn’t asked Abby to try that. He’d never even brought it up. It was entirely possible that “We’re a long way off,” was a polite way of saying, “She’ll never be able to do that.”
Abby looked at photos of cages, some of which actually went
under
the bed, but shook her head. There were no cages in Mark’s house. And she woke up every morning in his arms, even if she was chained to bed. He’d never make her sleep away from him, she decided. As a Master he could trade her or give her away, but he’d said he’d never share her. And Mark was a lot of things, but he was not a liar. Or a manipulator. Not in the negative sense. He’d promised to always see to her needs, and he always did.
As she researched, she discovered some Masters treated their slaves as true property. Things to play with and pass around, but never give any attention to beyond that. Other Masters professed that their slaves were their ultimate possessions that were to be cherised above all other things and cared for as though they were priceless. Abby decided that if Mark was a Master, he’d be the latter.
What would it be like to be owned by Mark? His house was immaculate, despite the fact that he was a mechanic and that was a dirty, messy job. His Harley was beautiful, always polished and perfectly tuned. She closed her eyes and pictured the soaps, and makeup, and shoes. And the orgasms, and the chocolate cake, and the bone melting kisses that he never seemed to get tired of bestowing upon her. Being Mark’s pampered and most prized possession sounded like a dream. But it wouldn’t always be like that. It would be hard. Like pissing-on-the-lawn hard sometimes. But she was beginning to see what he meant about sacrificing for the one you love.
Because even if she didn’t quite love Mark, yet, she could
see
herself loving Mark. And see him loving her. Mark was honest, and kind, and reliable, and above all a good man who, despite his sexual leanings, never treated her as less than a person or less than capable of doing anything she wanted to do.
Abby dug in with both heels, at that moment. She wasn’t losing Mark. He was the only good thing she had here. Had
anywhere
. And as long as he kept being Mark, Abby was going to be everything he wanted her to be.
****
Tex unlocked the front door and stepped inside his darkened house. He stopped short when he saw Abby. He had no idea how she'd gotten in.
She was naked, kneeling, wearing her collar, wrist and ankle cuffs, even the thigh cuffs which were attached just above her thigh high black stockings. She'd left off the garter belt.
For a moment his cock surged with desire.
She had her gaze directed at the floor. She was also kneeling with her knees spread apart and the the back of her hands resting on her thighs, palms up.
Classic Slave Presentation
, he thought.
At first he was surprised. Then he was angry. How had she learned that? He sure as fuck didn't teach her that.
"What are you doing?" he snapped.
Abby didn't lift her head. "Pet is here to serve her Master."
Jesus Christ.
Master.
And she was even referring to herself in the third person. He was about to tell her to stand the fuck up and put on some clothes when he stopped himself. A niggling thought entered his brain. In war you used any tool at your disposal, took advantage of every opportunity. And Abby may or may not have realized it, but she'd just given him an opening. He pocketed his keys and tossed his leather jacket onto the chair beside her.