Nine

"What would you like to do today?" I asked pleasantly, taking a breather from the meal.

A smile slowly formed on her lips, "Oh, the same...a movie, a nap, some dinner, maybe a game..."

There was an odd undertone to her words, an implication that I couldn't put my finger on at that time, "Sounds like a plan."

After she cleared the breakfast dishes, she came over and sat by me on the couch; I was half laying against the arm and she squirmed her way in between my spread legs, leaning against me so that her back was resting on my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, crossing my hands near her belly, my chin resting on the top of her head while she started the movie. I about shit bricks when it came on—a full blown porn. And not the mainstream kind of porn either, the stuff with kinks. I most definitely wasn't expecting anything remotely similar when I imagined her tastes but as the flick played longer, it was easy to see why she liked it—the woman was in charge. Her man was chained to the foot of her bed, a sex slave at best.

To say I was uncomfortable was a fucking understatement in many ways—my porn viewing was pretty straight forward, vanilla even. I was never one for power struggles within a relationship though, I guess if I had to be honest, I was usually in charge and if a woman tried to put her foot down I simply left. I watched the screen with a look of horrified interest, like one would watch a car crash or a shark attack. What I was seeing in no way appealed to me, which made the fact that my cock was rock hard even more embarrassing.

I held my hands clasped together tightly in an attempt to discourage her from moving but she was crafty about it and wiggled around until her shoulder was pressed into my chest and she could look at my face. I tore my eyes off of the screen and stared off into the distance, trying to avoid giving her the satisfaction of having solicited an erection from me. When she started squirming out of my grasp, sliding down my body until her face was planted in my crotch, I shifted uncomfortably.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take care of this," she replied, slipping her hands into the band of my pants. When she pulled them down my cock sprung free.

I quickly grabbed my waist band and tried to pull them back up, "You don't need to do that."

Her cold eyes darted upwards and she caught my gaze, "I am going to do this."

I froze like a fucking pussy. I had never not wanted a woman to suck my dick but in that moment I—I didn't know how to tell her to stop or how to explain that I just wanted to cuddle. I watched her small hands wrap around the shaft and her lips close over the head and almost winced, feeling so violated. While I wanted to make her happy, it felt almost as if this was some sort of punishment she was inflicting on me.

Mentally, I was not engaged as her hands moved up and down the length of my cock in increasing succession or when she sucked on the head hard enough that I thought for sure she'd draw blood; however, my body betrayed me and responded to her attentions. It took longer than in the morning but after a few minutes my body started trembling and I blew my load into her mouth.

She had this depraved satisfied look on her face, almost a wickedly pleased smirk after she swallowed my come and pulled free from my dick. I twitched when her hands squeezed it, bringing the last bit oozing out of the tip; when her tongue slowly licked it clean, I whined and squirmed, trying to get away from that pleasure pit of a mouth. Finally, she let me go and sat back up, grabbed the remote and switched the porn over to a movie. I had never been more thankful for something over the past few days than when she laid back down against me and snuggled into my chest.

A little over half way through the movie, my hands began to wander from her stomach, upwards to her breasts; I was surprised when she shrugged me off. Determined to please her, I trailed my hand lower and started to slip my finger tips into the waist band of her jeans.

"No," she replied flatly, taking my hand out of her pants.

My breath caught in my throat—I had serviced her consistently for the past four days and to be denied was the worst rejection of my life. Before I met her I had viewed orally pleasing a woman as a dull task but after doing it repeatedly, seeing the pleasure I gave her, hearing the noises she made, being able to worship her in such an intimate way had changed something in me. I wanted to make her happy and somehow, I had failed.

I can't remember the rest of the movie, I simply wrapped my arms around her and nestled my face into her hair, cherishing what small amount of cuddle time I was allotted before the afternoon would be over.

At some point I had drifted asleep; when I woke with a startle, she was no longer in my arms, instead she was putting dinner on the table. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, offering her a small smile.

She returned it, though it looked more like a grin, "Why don't you wash up?"

"Okay," I replied, rising and dragging the chain behind me into the bathroom.

After pissing I washed my hands and splashed some water on my face before drying off. When I opened the bathroom door, she was standing right outside of it, a look of amusement on her face.

"Drop your pants."

My eyes widened, "Excuse me?"

When she stepped forward, I stepped back until my ass hit the bathroom sink. There was no malice in her voice, just a simple statement, "Drop your pants."

I felt panic start to rise up in me, so confused about the change in her demeanor since yesterday; my voice almost came out as a squeak, "Please...no."

She raised one eyebrow, clearly displeased at my refusal. When she reached forward, my hands gripped the side of the sink and I clenched my teeth. The moment I felt her pushing my pants down, I closed my eyes and tried to check out but it was hard to ignore that warm, wet mouth on my flaccid dick. I knew, as gut wrenching as it was, that it would take longer for me to come again, yet she wasn't deterred; if anything, she was even more motivated. After several minutes of strenuous effort on her part with no peak on mine, I felt her cold, wet finger slide across my asshole. I cried out, perhaps more in humiliation and surprise than anything as I felt her work a finger inside of me. It was something I had never experienced before, something I never had any intentions of being done to myself but I'd be lying if I said I hated it. It felt bizarrely good, a dark sort of excitement that crept up into my chest and tightened in my balls. Despite not wanting any of it, I felt the surge as I came for the third time that day.

I was too mortified to move, groaning when her finger pulled out of my ass and my cock slid out of her mouth. She reached around me and washed her hands before I felt her walk away, "Hurry up, Nine. Dinner is getting cold."

I finally opened my eyes when I knew I was alone again, not sure how to process anything. I went through the motions of pulling my pants up and I stumbled out of the bathroom, flopping down into the chair across the table from her; I couldn't bring myself to look at her face. I silently ate my dinner, not really tasting any of it as I mulled over the past day in my mind only to discover that she had pretty much raped me. It seemed too harsh an accusation, especially for a man to claim but I didn't want either of the last two blow jobs, in fact I asked her to stop but she did it none the less.

Thankfully she didn't try to push conversation during dinner, instead let me stew in silence and contemplation while we ate. When we finished, she took time to clear the dishes and I set up our board game while she was gone. We played, exchanging necessary polite conversations when the game called for it and soon it was time for bed. I was nervous, pretty much on the edge of my seat since she had jumped me earlier.

While she went to get ready for bed, I prepared the couch, smoothing out the sheet over the cushions, fluffing my pillows and unfolding the blanket. I didn't bother looking up when she came out of the bathroom, instead scrambling inside and quickly shutting the door behind me. I leaned against it and held my breath, only relaxing a little when I heard her footsteps retreat to the other side of the room. I made short work of my nightly routine. When it came time to strip for bed, my hands shook as I removed the clothes; I had no idea why I was so worried. I can't imagine that any man would have refused a blowjob let alone viewed it as nonconsensual but it was more than that—it was the denial of being able to please her that had truly screwed with my head. In a way, it was something I not only felt was my duty but also my privilege and oddly enough it made me happy.

I tossed the clothes into the bin and shut the light out before I opened the door; it took a moment for my eyes to adjust but when they did, I noticed her right away. She was leaning against the edge of the bed, her legs crossed at the ankles, waiting for me. It registered what she was wearing—a sheer, black silk tank top and a matching pair of lace panties. Seeing her dressed that way was so was breathtaking; she raised her hand up, a key dangling down from her fingers. In that instant, I knew—she had gotten me off multiple times to ensure that I didn't fail her like I had that first night. All of my anxiety and trepidations immediately melted away.

I walked towards her, my eyes focused on the key; though it was dark, I knew what color it was—blue. I said nothing when I took it from her, instead I walked swiftly back to the bathroom and undid the last padlock preventing me from accessing the entire bedroom, from reaching the bed and from fucking her senseless.

I saw that she had a coy little smile on her lips as I approached her. I felt like hesitating, given how much I screwed it up the first time but I pushed past it; gently, I grasped her chin and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips were soft and tasted of mint. Quickly, I got rid of her tank top, exposing her round breasts to my face as I kissed my way to them. I pushed her onto her back, trailing my tongue down her torso to the edge of her panties. Spreading her legs, I nestled my face into her pussy, inhaling her sweet scent through the lace fabric; it was intoxicating. I hooked my fingers into the waist band and pulled them down, unceremoniously discarding them onto the floor. She was already incredibly wet simply from the anticipation of a good fuck and I wasn't about to let her down. If it killed me, I would please her.

I should have teased her a little bit but I was well beyond that—I needed to taste her, I needed to hear her moans, I needed to serve her. I dove in, mashing my face into her wet lips, wiggling my chin as I worked my tongue through her slit and into her hole. Her slightly tangy flavor was heaven and I realized at that moment how much I had missed it in only a day. After I lapped up what I could reach I sucked each lip into my mouth and cleaned it free of her cream before I wrapped my lips around her clit. The first moan that escaped her surged through my body like a wild fire, making my cock almost painfully hard and causing precum to ooze out of it and onto the comforter.

I slipped two fingers inside of her cunt, curling them and tormenting her g spot while I focused my mouth on her clit; her hands grasped the sheets and her hips bucked upwards. I slowed my pace when I felt her cunt clamp down on my fingers as if trying to break them off. I was ecstatic and sad at the same time—it felt so good to have pleased her yet I wasn't ready to stop. I eased my mouth off of her and rested my cheek against her thigh, keeping my fingers inside of her wet hole, feeling the pulsing of her muscles against them. When she finally came down from her high, I did it all over again.

She was quicker to come the second time and her screams were much louder; she tried to squirm out of my grasp but I didn't let her go. I continued to fuck her with my fingers, my other forearm draped across her hips so that I could pin her down. Her head rolled back and forth and her entire body shuddered; I felt her cunt contract and soon my hand was flooded in warmth as she squirted all over it, my face and the bed like a wanton whore.

I probably should have been appalled—it was the first time I had ever made a girl squirt and I got it all over me but frankly it was the hottest fucking thing that I had ever experienced. I had pleased her so well that she had lost all control of her body and was now nothing more than a moaning mess. I pulled my fingers out of her cunt and sucked them clean before climbing between her spread legs; she was panting and still trembling off and on. When she looked into my eyes I wasn't even sure if she was entirely conscious that I was there. I slid the tip of my cock across her sopping cunt, watching her jerk when the head grazed her clit. I wanted it so bad and I didn't want her to tell me no so I didn't tease any longer—I lined up and slowly pressed in.

"Fuck," I groaned out, she was almost so tight that I didn't think my dick would fit. She moaned through the entire first thrust, only stopping to breathe when I pulled out. I savored each inch that I fed her, feeling her still convulsing cunt clamp down on it when I tried to take it away. Maybe it was a bit selfish on my part but I wanted her to come again; when my pace started to increase, I slipped my forefinger and thumb between her pussy lips and lightly squeezed her clit.

She was incoherently mewling as I fucked her. She thrashed somewhat wildly and I thought she was trying to get away but the fact that her legs spread wider to give me unimpeded access said otherwise. The squishing sound of my crotch slapping against her dripping cunt filled the room; I was on the brink and only holding back because I wanted to hear her peak again. I pinched and rolled her clit a little harder and that was all it took—she screamed out, her back arching up off of the bed like she was possessed. I released her clit and grabbed her hips, pounding my dick into her forcefully until my body clenched up and I dumped into her what small amount of come my body had managed to replenish.

In the haze of my own peak I leaned back onto my knees, gazing down upon her. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair mustered, her chest rapidly rising and falling and on occasion, her body would twitch in a convulsion in time with her throbbing cunt. She was absolutely the most beautiful creature I had ever beheld. When my eyes wandered over her ample tits, her soft stomach to her flush and reddened bald cunt, I watched my come seep out of her—it was an amazing sight. I leaned down and planted my face into her pussy, relishing the squeal she let out when my tongue lapped up our mixed juices as her body expelled them.

I don't know why most guys are so squeamish about eating their own come—I'm not. Granted, I don't do it often because usually after a good fuck I'm so sated I just want to relax and fall asleep but I know for a fact that most sexually driven women find it to be the hottest thing a guy can do, to clean up her cunt after making it a dripping mess. I felt my thick seed slide across my tongue and down my throat when I probed her slit, snaking it upwards to her clit; she groaned and tried to squirm away but I gripped her thighs and held her fast, sucking hard on the nub. Her groan turned into an uncontrolled whine as she started building back up again; when she came for the last time, she cried out hoarsely and thrashed about.

I teasing licked, enjoying the way her body violently jerked in a response to the sensitivity of that one small tiny bit of flesh. Eventually I retreated, letting her ride out her pleasure, simply content to watch her as she lie before me. All of the excitement was too much and her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing finally slowing as her body relaxed into unconsciousness. I'm not sure how long I knelt there, simply watching her but it was in that moment that I realized that I didn't fucking care anymore. She could keep me chained if she wanted and if she ever let me loose, I'd stay anyways.

Thursday, February 14th—One Year Later

I pressed the button on the garage door opener, watching it shut behind me as I sat in my car. I looked at my hands, white knuckled on the steering wheel. This morning, I was excited—it was Thursday, Valentine's Day, one year since I met the love of my life. It was a huge deal for me, I had never been in a single relationship this long, I had never tried so hard to make something work before or loved someone so deeply but as the day wore on at work, my affect started to fade as the realization of the past few months had begun to settle in on me.

She had become more distant, more cold; we still talked and spent time together, we still made love in our bed and fell asleep in each other's arms but it had been getting harder and harder to get her to come. For the past week I had failed at it, no matter how zealous of an attempt I made. I drew in a deep breath and opened the car door, getting out before heading into the house. Each step up the stairs seemed to increase my sinking dread, almost like I knew it was over, like I knew I was going to lose her.

I found her in the bathroom. I leaned against the door frame, the smile on my lips was not forced as I watched her lightly apply her makeup; she had cut her hair a few months back and it was shorter now, not even shoulder length and long bangs drifted across her face but it didn't matter because she was beautiful regardless.

Her eyes caught mine in the reflection of the mirror, "What?"

My smile broadened and I stepped to her, my hands easily sliding around her waist while I pressed my chest into her back, "I was just thinking how beautiful you are. You are so sexy."

I leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her cheek but she pulled away, packing up her make up in one fluid movement as if she didn't realize she had shirked me—but she did. I knew it. She knew it. And, in a way, we both knew what that meant. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my tone positive, "What would you like to do tonight my love?"

"I am going to the bar," she said flatly.

She didn't say we. I didn't need to ask for clarification because I knew it wasn't a mistake. "What can I do?" my voice came out soft, pained.

She stared into the mirror again, catching my eyes; she held my gaze for a moment as if she was mulling something over but when she came to her determination all of the warmth seemed to vanish from her body, her tone so icy it hurt, "Stay in the bathroom until I come back." She said nothing more before she stepped out and shut the door behind her.

I felt like my heart had just been torn out of my heart and set on fire. I pressed my back into the wall and slid down until I was a crumpled mess on the floor, just a pile of useless flesh. I wanted to zone out but my mind replayed the events of the past year over in my head; fuck, I missed her so much all ready. She had become everything to me, my reason for waking up in the morning, my reason for coming home at night, my reason for breathing and now I had lost her. I had lost everything. Dying wouldn't hurt this much.

For hours, I didn't move. I couldn't, my heart wasn't in it. Idly my eyes wandered over to the large eyelet bolted down into the floor and in passing I realized that almost year ago today, I was in the exact same spot—lying on this bathroom floor with a chain around my ankle. Had I know then what I knew now I wouldn't have wasted those precious first few days fighting it. God, what an idiot I was.

When I heard the garage door, my heart leaped—she was home. I forced myself to sit up and I straightened my shirt, smoothing down my pants as I tried to appear casual while leaning back against the vanity. Maybe she had a change of heart, maybe this could work.