Ricochet (15 page)

“Don’t… don’t do that. That’s not
funny,” he sighed.

“I thought it was hilarious,” I
laughed.
 

“My balls are in my throat right now.
I’m glad you think that’s hilarious,” he retorted.

“Wow. Would it really be that bad if I
was?” I asked.

“Yes! It would be terrible. Unplanned
pregnancies are a bad time. It would just be bad all the way around. You have
to take that shot again three months from, when? Today? I’m setting a reminder
on my phone,” he stressed.

“Wow. Okay. Think we’re at the point in
this relationship where we need to talk about what we want out of the future?”
I inquired.

“Do you want a baby right now? You
fucking crazy person?” he protested.

“No, not right now,” I admitted.

“I don’t like… never want children. But
I’d like to maybe, I don’t know, be married first. A homeowner. Have a yard and
a golden retriever,” he explained.

“Fair enough,” I conceded.

“If you were, we’d make it work. It’s
just not a good joke,” he sighed. I sat down next to him.

“Okay. I get it. I’m sorry.
Anyway
we need to still use an
alternative method of birth control for about a week, but other than that we’re
good to go,” I stated.

“Does coming on your face count as an
alternative method of birth control?” he teased.

“Probably not, but you should do it
anyway,” I purred as I climbed into his lap, kissing his neck.

“I’m sorry baby. I’m not… I need a
minute. I have like, an anti-boner right now. I’m pretty sure my dick turned
inside out and retreated into my body. I think it’s a vagina now. I think that
makes you a lesbian, how do you feel about that?” he laughed.

“Oh my God. Get over it. Don’t be so
fucking sensitive,” I scowled.

“I need to get this water out of the
rug or it’s going to sit there and warp the wood. Can you grab the carpet
shampooer out of the hall closet?” he asked, nudging me off his lap. This is
the only time I can recall being rejected by Cash. I have to admit it stung a
little. I sauntered off to the hall.

“Cash?” I called.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Why do you have a fucking dog cage in
your hall closet?” I asked, walking back towards the living room, dragging the
carpet cleaner.

“Because it’s too big to go anywhere
else without getting in the way,” he laughed.

“Okay. But why do you have it? I
thought you said you’ve never had a dog,” I queried.

“Really, babe?” he sighed.

“Yeah, really… why’d you tell me you’ve
never had a dog if you’ve had a dog?” I argued.

“I have never had a dog,” he stated.

“Then why do you have a giant fucking…
Oh.
Oh.
Is it for
women
?” I whispered.

“Ding ding ding,” he chided.

“Sorry that I don’t immediately think,
‘oh, you could use this for fucking,’ with every mundane household object I
see,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Maybe you should start. Change the way
you look at the world. Anything can be a sex toy,” he chuckled.

“Do you miss it?” I asked, sincerely.

“Miss what? Using the cage?” he
inquired.

“That, and just… I don’t know. The
whole
lifestyle
you had before me.
The ‘not better but different,’ do you miss it?” I pushed.

“There are parts of it that I guess I
wish you would be more into. Kind of wish there was more dialogue. But you made
it very clear you don’t want to be talked to like shit. I don’t say much out of
fear that I will cross the line into talking to you like shit. I wish there was
a little more actual submission from you, a desire to please me and do as
you’re told,” he explained.

“Okay? I didn’t fucking ask? Thank you
for taking that and turning it into an opportunity to fucking critique me. I
wish you had two cocks and four tongues but we don’t always get what we want,
do we,” I snapped.

“Wow. First of all, I am not, by any
means, critiquing you. Second of all, why are we not at a place where we can
have open and candid discussions about sex? You’re not doing anything wrong, you
have nothing to get defensive about. I am simply expressing my sexual desires.
It’s not a reflection of you, at all,” he argued.

“You just said that you wished I cared
more about pleasing you. That’s insulting,” I scoffed.

“I don’t… I don’t mean it that way. I
mean when we’re playing rough specifically, like, just… wanting to do as your
told. It’s not that you don’t please me. You do. So much. I don’t want to talk
about this anymore. It’s not that big of a deal. I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you too. I’m sorry. I want to
talk about it though. Tell me what you need me to do,” I said.

“I don’t need you to do anything.
You’re not doing anything wrong. I shouldn’t have said anything,” he groaned.

“Can you explain to me what you mean
please? You’re right; we should be able to talk about this openly. Just explain
it to me, so I understand. How can I be more submissive than I already am?” I
prodded.

“Well, so far, it’s always been more
about what I’m doing to you that what we are doing together. You don’t really
get much of an opportunity for action and consequence. I want you to have
choices and get punished or rewarded based on how you choose. That kind of goes
hand in hand with the dialogue too. You scare me away from using too much
dialogue. Since we don’t have established scene markers or rules I try not to
talk too much out of fear that you’re going to have some snarky comeback and
I’ll smack you in the face out of reflex,” he explained.

“You can smack me in the face, I’m into
you smacking me in the face,” I blurted.
 

“Noted,” he smirked.

“Okay, so, let’s… let’s do it. Talk to
me however you want. I’ll do what you tell me to do. Push… push my limits,” I
stammered.

“You might have some dysphoria again,
afterwards,” he cautioned.

“We’ll deal with it. Fuck me up,” I
insisted.

“Go to the bedroom,” he demanded. No
argument from me. I bolted to the bedroom and sat eagerly on the edge of the
bed. I’m nervous. I’ve been chasing the high from my first time getting subby for
months. While we’ve had some excellent experiences, I haven’t quite been taken
out of my head like I did that first time. I think this time might do it
though, and I can barely contain my anticipation. Cash strolling in, dog crate
in tow, interrupted the whirring of my eager thoughts. I watched in silence as
he assembled it.

“Well, get in,” he said, motioning
towards the cage.

“Should I take my clothes off?” I
asked.

“Did I tell you to take your clothes
off and then get in?” he countered.

“No,” I said, sheepishly.

“Then, get in,” he barked. I complied.
He closed the door behind me and zip tied it shut. He stood and turned to walk
out of the room. I was not excited at the prospect of just being left in a
cage.

“Seriously?” I called after him. He walked
back and sunk to his knees to face me.

“Listen, that’s the kind of stuff you
can’t do. Don’t question me. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t ask questions.
Be quiet, and do exactly as I tell you,” he warned.
 
I took a deep breath and nodded. Fuck
it. Let’s do this.

This is
boring.
I don’t understand the appeal of being left alone with your
thoughts;
I was already full of
anticipation, this is having the opposite effect. I wish I had the foresight to
stick my cell phone in my pocket. Just before my boredom reached the brink of
calling the whole thing off, Cash walked back in. He circled the cage and
stared at me. It felt awkward and I had to fight off the urge to break the
silence.

“Do
you want out of there?” Cash asked. I nodded.

“Use
your words,” he urged, “Do you want out of there?”

“Yes,”
I replied.

“Why?
Tell me why you want out of there,” he prodded.

“Uh…”
I hesitated. Because I’m fucking bored? Because my legs are asleep? I feel like
these are not the answers he is looking for.

“Because
you want to get fucked. You want out so you can get fucked,” he answered for
me.

“Yeah,”
I agreed.

“You’re
gonna
have to show me something that would make me
want to fuck you,” he insisted. I awkwardly pulled off my shirt. The crate was
large but still constricting. It was difficult to maneuver.

“Oh,
not your tits, baby. You see one pair of tits you’ve seen every pair of tits.
You’re going to have to do better than that,” he admonished.
 
I struggled to wiggle out of my jeans and
turned onto my hands and knees. I reached back and spread myself open.

“There
we go, that’s better. Press your ass up against the bars,” he ordered. I leaned
back and repositioned myself against the door of the cage.

“Harder.
Make your skin bulge out through the grate,” he insisted. I pressed back harder.
He sank to the floor and slid his fingers through the grid, grasping my hips.
He pulled back, making me gasp as the wire bit into my flesh.

“Push,
push harder. Hold it,” he demanded. He slid a finger inside me. He released my
hip and pushed me away from the grate when my breathing got heavy.

“Get
yourself turned around. Face me,” he growled. I clumsily pivoted.

“Stick
your tongue out. Out, through the bars,” he said. He thumped his cock on my
outstretched tongue.

“Beg.
Beg me to let you out,” he asserted.

“Please
let me out,” I half-heartedly begged.

“You
have to tell me why you want out,” he disputed.

“Please
let me out so I can get fucked,” I panted, playing along. Cash pulled out a pocketknife
and slashed through the zip ties.

“That’s
a good girl. Come on, crawl out. Faster,” he cooed as he led me out of the cage
by my hair. He pulled me to stand. He wrapped his hand around my throat and led
me, walking backwards, to the bed. He tightened his grip until the veins bulged
in my forehead. He released me and I fell back onto the bed, gasping for
breath. He climbed atop me. I squirmed and bucked as he struck my breasts. He
clicked his tongue and laid a blow across my face. I instinctively closed my eyes
and braced myself. He grabbed my face and jerked it towards him.

“Look
at me. Open your eyes and look at me,” he bellowed, “don’t fucking flinch.” I
maintained eye contact as he struck me again.

“That’s
a good girl. Come on, get on your knees,” he coaxed, pushing me off the bed. He
slid down behind me and hooked his arm around my neck. He applied just enough
pressure to labor my breathing. He reached between my legs to stroke my clit as
he breathed in my ear.

“Here’s
how this is gonna work. You’re allowed to come; I want you to come. I want to
make you come over and over and over. But you have to tell me first. If you
come without telling me, I’m gonna fuck you up. Do you understand?” he
explained. I nodded in agreement.

“Use
your words,” he prompted.

“Yes,”
I gasped.

“Say
‘yes, I understand,’ I want to make sure that you get it,” he repeated.

“Yes,
I understand,” I choked. He furiously rubbed at my clit, lacking his typical
finesse. My body reacted anyway. I tried to comply with his request, but I
couldn’t find the words. I repeated, “I’m, I’m,” as I pushed closer to climax. He
knew my body and could feel that I was close. He whispered something in my ear,
but I didn’t understand him. He let me fall right over the edge before he abruptly
stopped and smacked my throbbing pussy. I squealed.

“You
tried to tell me,” he whispered, “but you need to try harder next time. Hold
your lips open.” My hands were shaking. I reached them between my legs and
spread myself open. He struck me again.

“Since
you can’t use your words, you’re gonna use your mouth. Get up. Get on your
knees,” he demanded. I crawled towards him and sat back on my heels. I couldn’t
stop shaking.

“You’re
not going to cry are you?” he asked, smoothing my hair out of my face. I shook
my head no.

“Open
your mouth. If it’s good, I’ll let you come again. If it’s not… well, you’ll
see what happens if it’s not,” he mused. He exhaled deeply as I took him in my
mouth. He batted my hands away. I took him as deeply as I could and retreated.

“See
how far you can go,” he urged, “push yourself.” I took a deep breath and pushed
his cock deeper down my throat.

“You
can go further than that,” he moaned. I tried to take more, and gagged. He
pulled out of my mouth.

“Okay,
okay, catch your breath,” he said before inserting his dick again. He grabbed
my head with both hands and forced himself down my throat.

“Don’t
gag. Push. Hold it, hold it there,” he encouraged, “see, you can do it. How
long can you hold your breath?” He removed his cock to allow me to answer.

“Thirty
seconds maybe,” I replied.

“I’m
going to time you. If you can make it the whole thirty seconds without pulling
away I’ll let you have some dick,” he promised. I took him deeper this time,
fighting the urge to gag. He pinched my nostrils closed and began counting out
loud. His voice was oddly soothing, and I focused on it. The seconds dragged,
and the added distraction of Cash’s cock down my throat made it feel like
minutes. He finally got to “thirty,” and released me. I gasped for breath.

“Good
girl. I’m impressed. I’m gonna make you come. Get on the bed,” he said, pulling
me to my feet. I laid on my back and watched as he quickly shed his clothes. He
climbed on top of me, twirling my nipples between his fingers as he slid his
cock into my eager pussy. I twitched and groaned as he cracked his hand across
my tit. He mumbled profanities as he thrust into me and laid another blow across
my face. He pressed his thumb against my clit, sending my eyes rolling back in
my head.

“You
better fucking tell me before you come. You’re starting to get there, aren’t
you?” he whispered in my ear.

“Yeah,”
I breathed.

“Are
you about to come?” he prodded.

“Yeah,”
I gasped. He pulled out and flipped me onto my stomach. He pulled me up onto my
knees by my hips. He smacked my ass several times before entering me from
behind. I buried my face in the mattress to muffle my moans as he hammered into
me.

“Get
your fucking face out of that mattress. Look back at me. I want to see your
face,” he demanded, continuing his blows on my backside. I twisted back to look
at him.

“Get
that fucking hair out of your face,” he barked. I pushed my hair out of my
watering eyes. He grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back. I called out
loudly as I again felt climax impending.

“Are
you coming?” he asked, continuing to thrust. I couldn’t answer; I could barely
comprehend the question.

“I
know you’re fucking coming. I can feel you fucking coming. And you didn’t tell
me. That’s it. You’re done. No more dick for you. Turn your ass around,” he
exclaimed. I could barely move. He grabbed me by the throat and brought my face
to his to scold me.

“I
thought we discussed that before you come you tell me. Didn’t we? Didn’t we
talk about that?” he reprimanded.

“Yes.
I’m sorry,” I gasped.

“Don’t
be sorry, just fucking do better. I want you to come. That’s why we’re here. I
just want you to tell me before you do. It’s a shame. Because now you have to
ask,
” he crooned, increasing his
pressure on my throat.

“Do
you understand?” he prompted.

“Yes,
I understand,” I choked.

“Good
girl, you’re learning,” he said, releasing his grip, “so what do you have to do
before you come now?”

“Ask
permission,” I stated.

“Very
good, now get up. Turn back around on your knees,” he ordered. My muscles were
already weak. I couldn’t get them to cooperate. I tried to push myself up and
couldn’t find the strength.

“You
don’t want to listen fast enough? Fine, come on,” he stated as he dragged me
from the bed by my hair. He pushed me to the ground and dragged me by my hair
back to the cage. He ushered me inside and slammed the door.

“What
are you going to do to get out of there this time?” he pressed.

“I
don’t… I don’t know,” I replied, holding back tears.

“Show
me how many fingers you can fit in your pussy,” he suggested. I conservatively
slid three fingers in. He urged me to try one more. My heightened arousal and
glistening wetness helped it slip in effortlessly.

“You
have two hands,” he reminded me. I inserted another index finger.

“Tell
you what,” he conceded, “you get two more in there and I will let you out of
there.” I cried out as I stretched to accommodate two more awkwardly placed
fingers. Cash unlatched the door to the cage and swung it open. He reached in
and grabbed my hair, pulling me out onto the floor. I didn’t try to get up; I
just lay there where he left me. He grabbed my face, turning it to look at him.

“Are
you done already?” he asked.

“No,”
I huffed.

“Then
get the fuck up. Get on the bed,” he demanded. I forced myself to stand and
walk over to the bed. I laid on my back, awaiting further instruction. Cash dug
in the bin from the other bedroom as I tried to collect myself. He dropped an
armful of tools on the foot of the bed, and pushed me to move to the center. He
lit a candle on the nightstand and climbed into the bed with me. He produced a
length of rope, and pushed my knees to my chest. He gathered my hands together
behind my knees, tied them, and secured them to my ankles, binding them
together as well.

“Alright.
Flip over. Ass in the air,” he ordered. My movement was greatly restricted.
Cash watched me struggle for several moments before grabbing me and flipping me
himself. He grabbed the wooden cane from the end of the bed and began tapping
it lightly across my back. This tool had very little give; a good whack was
going to hurt. I braced myself. He dragged the tip down my spine before letting
it crack down on my ass. I screamed.

“Is
that too much for you?” he asked.

“No,”
I assured him. He continued to strike me across my backside with varying force.
He picked a spot on my left side and began gently tapping it repeatedly.

“We’re
going to do one good one, right here. Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes,”
I replied. The cane felt white hot as it made contact with my skin. I was
beyond feeling pain; I had ascended it. All I could feel was heat and pressure.
 
I breathed deeply as Cash picked a
spot to tap on the other side.

“We’re
gonna do one more over here,” he warned. I braced for the impact. My lack of
reaction from the first strike encouraged him to bring this one down twice as
hard. Tears involuntarily streamed down my face and a small sob escaped my
lips.

“Aw,
you’re not being a cry baby, are you?” Cash mocked as he rubbed the redness
emerging on my ass.

“No,”
I contested.

“Do
you need me to stop?” he asked again.

“Keep
going,” I challenged. Cash untied my wrists and ankles. He flipped me onto my
back and pulled me to the foot of the bed. He pulled my ass to the edge and
attached my wrists to the bedposts with leather cuffs. He secured my ankles to
the legs of the bed with rope, wrapping the excess up to my knees and tying it
off to the bedposts to keep my legs open. Cash cursed as he untangled several
sets of clothespins attached to each other with string. He fastened a
clothespin to the skin of my inner thigh, and another a few inches away, and
another, and another until my skin was being pinched in six places. He did the
same on my other thigh. He then attached a line of clothespins from one nipple
to the other along the skin of my breasts.

“Don’t
fuck up this time, baby. I’ve got a special treat for you when you come. But
you have to ask me first or you won’t get it,” he reminded me. He produced a
bulbous vibrator and pressed it into my clit. I immediately began to tense and
buck; the sensation was overwhelming. Cash left the toy propped against my clit
and walked to the nightstand to grab the candle. He didn’t blow it out this
time and allow the wax to slightly cool, he left it burning and poured it
directly onto my chest and stomach. I screamed and writhed, grinding against
the vibrator. He climbed over me and rubbed his cock against my lips. I parted
them and he pressed into my mouth. I suckled as he reached to press the toy
harder against my pussy. I turned my head to the side to remove his dick from
my mouth.