The House of Pain (6 page)

I run into Doug at the elevator on Friday. I’m heading to lunch with my friend Toni, when the elevator doors open, and Doug and the COO walk in. We both have been giggling about something she’s said about one of our coworkers, but we both grow still as we notice the new entrants and stop our giggling. The COO nods at us politely and continues his conversation with Doug.

Doug looks relaxed and unintimidated. And utterly hot, I decide, surveying him from the corner of my eyes. I have done as he’s asked. I haven’t masturbated, and as a result, I can’t tear my mind away from sex, from the way Doug had me tied up on the sawhorse, as he licked me from behind.

The elevator doors open and we all get out. Doug catches my eye and winks at me. “Have a nice weekend, Sara,” he says, politely, as we walk away.

“You know Doug Patterson?” Toni asks me. She’s surprised.

“We met at last month’s meet-and-greet,” I say. I change the topic and we chat about Toni’s weekend plans.

***

Friday evening after work, I head to a bar around the street with my coworkers. They are a good bunch. I’m going to miss working with them. My boss Jason. There’s my friend Toni, who’s always good for a giggle. Adam, a dreamer, who always has pictures of his vacations in his cubicle, and spends a lot of time dreaming about the next trip. Paul, quiet and efficient. Sandra, the only one I dislike; she’s a complainer – she has no life outside work. Comes in early, leaves late, but doesn’t manage to get anything done in her hours at her desk, because she’s too busy gossiping and complaining. Ok, I won’t miss Sandra. But I’ll definitely miss the rest.

Our department has been through ups and downs as we’ve struggled to define ourselves and prove to our management that we indeed add value. And from the rumours of layoffs, it doesn’t look like the struggles are over either. But they are for me. I’ve worked my last day. I have a week off, and then I start a new chapter in my life.

We giggle a lot, consume an inordinate amount of wine; and get rather drunk.

***

It is 5.55pm Saturday afternoon, and I am at Doug’s door. I take a deep breath to still my nerves, and ring the doorbell.

I hear Alia’s typical volley of barks, and then the door opens. As before, Alia tries to bowl me over. I pet her, laughing. It’s hard to remain nervous or serious in the face of Alia’s enthusiasm.

Doug smiles at me. “Hey Sara,” he says. His eyes are warm and friendly. “Come on in.”

I follow him into the kitchen. “Want a drink?” he asks me.

“Please,” I say.

He hands me a beer; grabs one for himself. And then he gives me my first order.

“Sara, I’d like you to go downstairs, please.” His voice is firm today. “Take off your clothes. Keep your underwear on. Wait for me.”

He hasn’t touched me. I’m not sure if he’s still angry with me about Wednesday night. I nod. I obey.

It’s a rainy Saturday. Wet and chilly, a harbinger of the coming autumn. The basement is thankfully warm though. Doug has the fireplace going and it fills the room with warmth. I’ve dressed casually. I’m wearing jeans, a t-shirt, sneakers. I take off my clothes and perch at the end of the bed. I sip my beer quietly. My thoughts are scattered. Nervousness and anticipation are warring inside me.

I hear Doug’s footsteps on the stairs and he walks in.

“Come here,” he says, gesturing to the middle of the room. I walk over, still holding my beer. Doug reaches forward, takes the beer from my hand, and sets it down on a side-table next to the bed.

“So, Sara, did you masturbate?” His voice is relaxed. He is standing really close to me. I can feel the heat emanate from him and I can smell his smell, a combination of soap and aftershave and hot man. My breathing quickens, ever so slightly, as my body reacts to his nearness.

“No,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he says, approvingly. He walks around me, eying my body. I flush under his examination.

“Take your underwear off, please.”

I gulp. I remind myself I’ve been naked in front of Doug before, but he’s always taken my clothes off. To take my clothes off in front of him, when the room is in light, and he’s watching me, his eyes thick with lust, his nostrils flared; this is difficult.

“Sara.” Impatience in his voice.

I quickly obey. Perhaps it’s easiest this way, to obey whatever he asks me to do, without thinking about how it makes me feel.

But his eyes are on me, slowly examining my body, and I am blushing at his inspection. “Turn around,” he says. I obey.

His hands are caressing my ass. “No trace of welts,” he says. “Are you up to getting spanked today?”

Wetness floods my pussy at his words; my nipples are erect. He notices my body’s reaction and laughs. “I think the answer to that is yes, isn’t it Sara?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

He pulls my face towards him and kisses me. His lips are strong, he’s nibbling my lips with his, his tongue dances with mine, and I’m panting in utter arousal when he’s done. I mutely turn my head so my neck is visible. I love being kissed there; there’s something about that spot that is so very erotic to me.

“Here?” Doug asks, brushing my neck with his fingers, in response to my unspoken invitation.

I nod silently. My brain is already a haze. He bends his head and his lips find that spot. I moan, wrap my arms around his waist; pull him closer to me. I need to feel his body, his strength pressed up against my body.

For a change, he does not tell me to hold still. His mouth is raining hot kisses on my neck, his hands are tracing idle circles on the sides of my breasts, and I am in heaven.

Doug is still fully clothed and I groan in slight frustration. I want to run my hands and my mouth all the way up and down his body. I want to kiss his nipples, and bury my face in his perfect chest. I want to feel the raw steel of his arms as they hold me down. I want to lower my mouth on his beautiful cock, and feel him erupt in my mouth.

But for a start, I want him to take off his clothes.

I’m not sure if this is allowed. If I’m permitted to make a request about what I want. How will you find out what the rules are, if you don’t ask? I ask myself.

“Doug,” I start hesitantly.

“Mmm?” Doug has lowered a mouth on my right breast, and I feel his teeth graze my nipple. Lust shoots through me, potent and burning.

“Am I allowed to talk in your dungeon?” My question is tentative. Instantly, his mouth stops, he pulls away from me. I look at him. He is looking utterly exasperated.

“What are the rules we’ve set down so far, Sara?” I can hear the mild irritation in his voice.

“Umm.” My mind is a blank, I’m still in a haze of lust, but I’m mindful of the irritation in his voice. I struggle to focus. Have there been rules? 

“Umm, honest communication?” He’d said that the first time.

“Good. What else?” His voice is level. He looks slightly less irritated.

I search the memories of our conversations. What else? Oh right. Wednesday’s discussion about monogamy.

“No sleeping with other people.” I sound relieved at remembering the rules. His lips twitch.

“And was there anything else?” he asks, amusement warring with exasperation in his voice.

“I don’t think so.” I’m now slightly sheepish. I feel utterly foolish.

“Excellent.” His voice is openly amused now. “But I think this is a lesson that best needs to be taught a different way. Come on.” He tugs me to the bed, settles himself against the headboard, and pulls me onto him. I am face-down on his lap, my butt in the air and one of his hands is wrapped around my waist, holding me in place. I sense I’m about to be very thoroughly spanked.

“So, Sara,” he says conversationally. “What’s the standard convention here? You count the spanks? I don’t want you to do that. Instead, I’d like you to repeat what I say after me. Understood?”

I nod into the mattress.

Whap. Whap. His hand comes down hard on my ass and I nearly jump off the bed as the heat radiates through me. He has spanked me hard. I bite my lips to hold back my squeak.

“Silly Sara.” His voice is relaxed. He sounds almost indulgent as he rains blows on my tender, unprotected ass. “You have all these ridiculous preconceived notions about us, what we are doing here. Let it all go. The rules are what we make them. Understand?” A couple of hard swats to emphasize his point. I jump and writhe again. My ass is already throbbing. Perhaps because of the warmth of his house or perhaps because he’s only spanked me gently so far, I didn’t think I’d be in much pain being spanked by Doug. I’m forced to reassess. His hands are raining blows down on me, and my flesh feels like it is on fire.

My pussy is predictably dripping. As I writhe, I can feel Doug’s dick against my hip, straining through his jeans. I’m reacting to being held in his strong arms, to the force of the blows raining down on my ass.

“Repeat after me.” His voice is firm, unyielding now. “The rules are what we make them.”

My voice is small. “The rules are what we make them.”

“Excellent.” He stops spanking me for a minute, strokes my ass, soothing the heated cheeks. I part my legs slightly in invitation. I am so wet. So turned on.

“Nope. Not yet. First, your punishment,” Doug says. I can hear the arousal in his voice. His voice is slightly hoarser, slightly rougher. I smile into the mattress, inwardly pleased at the effect I’m having on him. I wriggle a little, deliberately grinding my hips against his dick.

“Hold still, Sara,” Doug warns me. I hear the amusement in his voice. My ploy is transparent. I redden slightly, embarrassed by how easily he’s read me and I hold still.

He starts spanking me again. In between the spanks, he’s talking to me. “I’m not interested in making love to a perfectly trained doll, Sara. I want a real, live woman in my dungeon and in my bed. Someone who is intelligent, who brings something of herself in the dungeon, someone I can respect and laugh with.”

Interspersed with this speech are hard spanks. I want to hold still and to listen to what he’s saying, but the blows are raining down and I’m whimpering in pain.

“Repeat after me. Doug does not want a perfectly trained doll.” His voice is lazy. He’s stroking me with his fingernails, and the slight edge of them against my throbbing ass sends little lightning bolts of electricity running through me.

“Doug does not want a perfectly trained doll.” I repeat dutifully. Can it be true though? I wonder inwardly. I hear what he’s saying, but I’m not sure I believe it.

He resumes my spanking. I’m moaning now, whimpering and writhing over him. Each stroke is painful; each stroke makes me flinch. The pain flows through me but I can’t disassociate from it the way I did at the House of Pain. Here, the immediacy of Doug’s body against mine keeps me firmly in the moment, where I can feel every blow.

“Repeat after me again. Any rule is negotiated by both of us, with full consent from both of us.”

“Any rule is negotiated by both of us, with full consent from both of us.” My voice is small. This is a very effective lesson, one I won’t be forgetting in a hurry.

His hands are stroking my ass again. My flesh is throbbing and painful. But he soothes me expertly, he has very subtly pulled me closer. The moment feels different. There’s electricity in the air and there’s intimacy in the way he’s stroking me.

“I’m not interested in any submission of yours that lessens you,” he says quietly. “I’m not interested in objectifying you, in humiliating you. You are always more than a naked, willing body. You are a person, with wants and needs, hopes and fears.” His hands are still stroking me. I remain very still and I listen to him. There’s quiet certainty to his tone. I remember my first impression of Doug. This is someone who knows what he wants.

And as I listen to him articulate what he wants, pressed down on him, ass inflamed and throbbing, I am suddenly very afraid. Doug will not be content with being kept within a tidy little box. Doug will want everything I have to give and more.

He’s still talking. “Who you are outside the dungeon matters. The more you are outside of this room, the greater the gift of your submission in this room. Your strength is the gift.”

Three final, hard spanks. Unexpected blows. I almost arch off his lap as my body flails against the impact of his blows. Tears are cascading down my cheeks, though I’m not sure if I’m crying from the pain of the spanking, or the intensity of the emotional storm he’s set off inside me. He pulls me into his arms, I feel his firm chest against me. I bury my face in his shoulder, still sniffing.

He provides silent comfort as the churning emotions subside. I cry and he doesn’t try to stop me. He is there, pressed against me, a shoulder to lean on. He embodies warm strength.

My sobs slowly recede and my breathing evens. I’m still buried in his chest. I straighten and make a wry face. “I probably look like a mess,” I say, slight sheepishness in my voice.

He shakes his head at me. “Women, sheesh.” There’s mock annoyance in his voice. He looks at me, his eyes soften. “You look forlorn and woebegone, and I want to kiss away all your cares, Sara.”

I’m still naked, he’s still clothed. I move against him hopefully. I need him inside me.