Want It Bad (18 page)

Then another.

Carla switched the Hitachi off, stood up, and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her hair was a mess. Chest heaving. Nipples hard. Face and neck flushed. Sweating.

It was like looking at a stranger.

“What’s happening to me?” she asked herself.

Then she walked to her closet. She found a special clothes hanger she’d bought expressly for scarves. Attached to it were wooden clothespins, the spring-action kind. Carla took a silk scarf, and two clothespins, and went back to the Hitachi.

She placed one of the clothespins on her right nipple, gasping at the sensation. It hurt, but in a very good way. She did the left nipple next. Then she turned on the Hitachi, knelt over it, and wrapped the scarf around her wrists, behind her back.

Carla pictured Jake, watching her, his hard-on straining inside his jeans.

“Lower yourself,” he commanded.

She sat on the vibrator, wiggling to find the best spot.

“Now get up.”

Carla did as her imagination commanded.

“You can’t come until I say so,” her fantasy Jake told her. “Do you understand?”

Carla flexed her tied wrists, fighting against her bonds, her body trembling with need.

“Yes… Master.”

Jake never called.

It was two
A.M.
, and Carla couldn’t sleep. Her whole body was wonderfully sore. She had one small welt still on her bottom that stung when she touched it.

She couldn’t stop touching it.

Her thoughts were all over the place. She felt proud that she finally was able to enjoy sex. Ashamed that the sex she enjoyed was perverted. Uncomfortable at the idea that she, a successful attorney, a self-made woman, a free thinker, a feminist, an independent spirit, got off on being treated like a slave. Excited by the opportunities her new obsession represented.

  And it was very much an obsession. Or a drug. Carla craved to see Jake again, for him to take her even farther than he had. But she also felt remorse at wanting something so unconventional, to such an extreme degree. Carla had seen documentaries about addicts, knew about the circle of abuse and shame, and recognized the signs.

But I only began this path less than twenty-four hours ago. How could I be an addict so soon?

Carla shifted in bed, found herself staring at the phone. She wondered if Jake had gotten home yet.

And if he had, had he stroked himself? Had he been thinking of me while he did it?

It was only two
A.M.
He was young. He was probably still awake.

Maybe I should call him.

Carla turned away from the phone.

Shit. I am an addict.

After a lengthy masturbation session, Carla had eaten dinner and returned to the Internet. She learned all she could about the BDSM scene.

Submission, and pain, released endorphins. She was riding a natural high.

There were many types of BDSM play besides bondage and spanking, including collaring, breath control, erotic humiliation, edgeplay, sexual denial, electroplay, tickling, mummification, sensory deprivation, servitude, slave training, and many other strange and exciting things to try. Carla’s mind reeled at the possibilities, and she hadn’t been this enthralled by something since she’d been a child, on the night before Christmas, lying awake in bed and fantasizing about what Santa might bring.

Dear Santa, I’ve been a bad girl this year. I need a firm paddling, and a nice leather collar with a leash.

“Oh my god,” Carla said to the universe. “I’ve lost my mind.”

She finally fell asleep around three in the morning, still caressing the welt on her bottom.

When she awoke, a little after nine-thirty, the welt was gone.

Carla swung out of bed, stretched, showered, and slipped into Jake’s kimono. She considered wearing something underneath. A thong, perhaps. Or a garter belt and stockings. But she ultimately decided on just the robe. Easier access.

Then she checked her email and tried not to stare at the phone.

He specifically said breakfast. It’s ten
A.M.
Should I call him?

No. I’m not going to call. He said he’d call me.

So why hasn’t he called yet?

Jesus, why do I feel like I’m in high school waiting to be asked to the prom?

When the phone finally rang at a minute after ten, Carla forced herself not to answer until the third ring.

“Good morning. It’s Jake.”

His voice made her quiver. “Good morning.”

“Sorry I didn’t call sooner. Things got… well… pretty weird.”

Was he talking about what he’d done with Carla? Or his emergency?

“Are things okay now?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray the desperation she felt.

“They’re better. Can you come by for breakfast? I picked up some bagels.”

“Sure.”

“I know I cut our time short yesterday. Thanks for understanding. I’ll make it up to you today. I promise.”

The thought made Carla’s toes curl. “See you soon,” she said.

Carla took a quick shower, toweled off, put the kimono back on, and walked over to Jake’s.

When he opened the front door, Carla was surprised to be greeted by a dog. A short, fat basset hound. It sniffed Carla and went, “Woo-woo!”

“That’s Harry,” Jake told her, squatting and petting the dog on the head. “Long story.”

Carla bent over, scratching the hound behind the ears. “Nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry wagged his tail, banging it into the doorframe over and over. He gave Carla a lick on the face.

“He’s friendly.”

“He’s also a bed hog,” Jake said. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

For having slept little, Jake looked amazing. He wore leather pants today that slung low on his hips, and a white silk shirt that was unbuttoned. His bare chest had more definition than
Webster’s Unabridged,
as Janet would say. Carla fought the urge to trace her fingers over his abs, and instead stood up and tried to swallow the knot in her throat.

Jake remained squatting, and Carla braced herself, hoping for a repeat of yesterday morning. If he began to lick her, right then, she’d scream loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

But Jake didn’t seem interested. He gave Harry one more chuff under the chin then turned and led Carla to the kitchen. There was a small mound of bagels on a plate, some cream cheese, a pitcher of ice water, and a single rose in a vase. Carla selected a precut raisin bagel and began to nibble on the smaller, bottom half. Jake took the top.

Carla sat, letting her kimono gape open. The edge of the silk brushed one erect nipple, revealing most of her breast, and she watched Jake’s eyes, waiting for him to notice. “So, you own a dog.”

Instead of feasting his eyes on her body, Jake looked down at the basset. “More like he owns me. I’m still not sure what to do. I’d prefer not to talk about it. After you left, things got… complicated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Carla shifted in her chair and spread her knees. The silk fell to either side of her hips, leaving her totally bare from the waist down.

Jake brought his attention back to her, focusing on her eyes. “How was your night?”

I masturbated and came five times imagining you dominating me.

“It was… good. I’m excited about today.”

He seemed pleased by her words, but his eyes didn’t roam. “Me, too. I don’t want to get weird, but… never mind. Forget it.”

Carla made a face. “You can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

She gave him a little nudge with her foot, under the table. “You can’t start to tell me something, then stop.”

“I thought you liked it when I started something, then stopped.”

She did. But that wasn’t the point.

Or was it?

“I’m supposed to beg you to tell me? Is that the game?”

Jake leaned forward on his elbows, moving within kissing distance. “I do like it when you beg.”

“I like it, too.”

“So…” he whispered. “Beg.”

Harry went, “Roooo-roooo!”

The dog was sitting up, balancing on his rear legs, paws together as if in prayer.

“Apparently someone else knows how to beg, too,” Jake said, tossing him a piece of bagel. Harry snatched it out of the air.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Carla felt jealous of the dog. Harry had Jake’s attention.

Doesn’t he notice me here, with my nipples hard, and my legs open?

“I’m thinking that today,” Jake said, feeding the dog another bit of bagel, “you aren’t allowed to come unless you ask permission.”

She’d had a taste of that game the day before, and the thought of exploring it further was such a thrill that Carla shivered.

“And what if you don’t give me permission and I come anyway?”

“I’ll punish you.”

“How?”

Jake bent over, picked up her foot, stretching out her leg. He gripped her ankle firmly, then stroked his finger under her foot.

Carla giggled and immediately pulled away.

“You’re ticklish,” Jake said, eyes glinting.

“I hate being tickled.”

“Then that will be your punishment. If you come without permission, I’ll tickle you. And since you’ll be tied up, you can’t get away.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to be tickled.”

“Then ask permission before you come. Agreed?”

Carla considered it then accepted the challenge. “Agreed. When do we start?”

“Now. I’ve been staring at your open pussy since you arrived.”

Oh… wow. Just wow.

“Stand up,” he said, holding out his hand to her.

She took it and stood, knees quaking. Jake knelt on the floor.

“Rub up against my face,” he told her.

Carla did, gladly, and his mouth welcomed her. He gripped her ass, and she ground against him and his tongue and lips devoured her. It didn’t take long for the orgasm to begin building inside her. Remembering their new rules, Carla asked, “May I come?”

“No,” Jake said. Then he immediately began sucking on her clit. He took it in his mouth and drew on it, the pleasure so intense she almost fell over.

“I’m… I’m going to come…!”

“No.”

Carla grabbed his head, not sure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer. Jake stopped his oral assault and stared up at her, grinning.

“You’re using your hands,” he said. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

Jake straightened up, took her hand, and led her to the dungeon of pleasure. Carla felt light-headed, her legs wobbly. Her heart fluttered, as if a wounded dove was trapped behind her ribs.

I’m back for more. More bondage. More masochism. More depravity.

Is this really happening? Is this really who I am? What I want?

“Sorry, Harry,” Jake told the dog before closing the door on him.

Then he brought her to the leather-covered seat facing the Stallion fucking machine, which looked a lot colder and more formidable than it had yesterday. Carla felt like a witch about to be burned at the stake; the same sense of fear and helplessness.

Why is this so exciting for me?

Am I deranged?

Jake’s eyes became intense, his lips pressed together in a line as if he were angry. “Sit.”

Carla considered disobeying. Would he be upset if she said no? Would he punish her?

Jake must have mistaken her hesitancy for reluctance. His face softened. “It’s okay, Carla. We don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It makes me very uncomfortable,” she admitted. “That’s why I want to do it. Last night, after I left…”

Why am I telling him this?

His stern expression returned. “Were you a bad girl?”

She couldn’t look at him, her entire body trembling. She blushed hot. “Yes.”

“You had fantasies.”

“Yes.”

“You masturbated.”

“Yes.”

He put his hand on her waist, and she could feel the heat from his palm. “Tell me what you did. And look me in the eye.”

Carla, managed to meet his gaze without melting from embarrassment. “I put clothespins on my nipples.”

She’d never seen Jake more intense. “What else?”

“I tied my hands behind my back.”

“How did you come?”

“My Hitachi. I squatted on it. I… imagined it was you.”

The silence that followed was agonizing. Was Jake mad? Pleased? Amused? His expression was unreadable.

“Sounds like you were very bad last night,” he said, his voice low.

“I was,” she swallowed. “I was very bad last night.”

Carla lowered her eyes, feeling like a kid caught doing something naughty, and she glimpsed the bulge in Jake’s leather pants. It was
huge
. She bit her lip, then put her hands behind her back to refrain from reaching out and grabbing him.

“You need to be punished, Carla. Do you agree?”

“Yes. I… I need to be punished.”

What is he going to do? Is he going to tickle me? Do something worse?

“Does the thought of being punished make you wet, Carla?”

“Yes.”

“Are you wet right now?”

“Yes.”

“Show me. Put your finger inside yourself.”

Carla let the kimono open. She slipped her hand between her legs then entered herself.

Wet? I’m drenched.

Carla couldn’t help giving her engorged clit a slight rub, and the moan escaped her throat before she could stop it.

“Show me your finger.”

She held up her hand, glistening with her juices. Jake caught Carla’s wrist and pulled her hand to his mouth. He rubbed her fingertip across his lips, his eyes boring into hers.

“I’m going to let you choose your own punishment, Carla. Come with me.”

He held her hand, leading her to the rack of instruments.

“Pick the unsexiest item on the wall.”

Carla’s eyes immediately locked onto the ball-gag, and she felt herself cringe and recoil.

Jake rubbed the small of her back and urged her forward. “Okay, you’re still not ready for the gag. Pick the
second
unsexiest item.”

Carla’s stare lingered on the candles—having hot wax dripped on her didn’t sound erotic—but she pointed to the butt plug. Shiny black rubber, shaped like a football. Nothing sexy about that at all. It looked uncomfortable and formidable. In fact, it was so unappealing that Carla felt her excitement wane.