Tuesday Ch. 02

He gapes at you silently, clearly not expecting that. You put years of dance training to use and balance on one foot as you extend your leg past his nose and then carefully and gently straddle him. You drape an arm around his neck and pull him to you. His lips are soft but his skin is rough with his unshaven beard as you press your own lips against him.

'Don't you dare apologize for last night. Don't. You were great. If you're ever too rough for me, I'll let you know ok?'

You feel him swell beneath you, which is gratifying. You know he's always found you attractive and sexy, but it never hurts to have rock hard throbbing proof of that. You think for a moment that he might finally understand what you like and don't like and desperately, unrelentingly need and you may be able to stop living this strange double life.

'Yes Ma'am!' He says with a grin and a gentle kiss that completely shatters the moment.

You sigh, then kiss him back gently and slip off of him. Him pulling you to him and gripping you firmly you would have understood. If he'd stood up, swept the breakfast off the table and then bent you over the kitchen table and taken you ferociously that would have been better.

There were a million things he could have done there.

But he chose to just duck his head and say 'Yes Ma'am!' like an excited schoolboy.

You tousle his hair and then bend over to retrieve the robe that slipped to the floor. It isn't worth getting upset over. You love him, he loves you, you're starting a family and it's good enough. And when it's not good enough... you have Padraic.

Still, as you clean up the dishes and organize the kitchen, you wish time would flow a little faster.

It doesn't.

The thing about time though, is that no matter whether you perceive it as fast or slow, it inexorably marches forward.

So the day flows by you and the afternoon and then the evening arrive. Your husband comes home from work and you have dinner and talk a little. He's tired from a pretty demanding day so you make sure he feels appreciated. He's a little snappy about things, which is kind of par for the course, so you let it roll off your back.

You know he doesn't mean to be curt with you. He works hard. Money is tight for you both and it stresses him.

Still, you do what you can to relax him, and you make him a nice dinner and make him a drink.

He actually nods off in the living room on the couch while he's fooling around with a video game. You let him stay there for a while and then you finally rouse him and coax him into the bedroom. He groggily slips off his clothing and you sit in your chair and admire his lean, lithe frame as he slides into his night time boxers.

You know he's exhausted when he doesn't even attempt to get sex from you. He just slides the covers up and plants his head on the pillow. You wander over to the bed to give him a good night kiss and realize that he's already started to doze off.

You hover for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He came home and was so grumpy you didn't even get a chance to tell him you were going to the 'gym' tonight.

Still, this isn't a big deal. You can leave him a note telling him where you went. You've done this before. He should be fine.

It just feels odd tonight. Every other time you left for the evening he says good night and tells you to be careful and call if you'll be late.

You miss the ritual. It feels important.

You don't want to wake him to allay your odd feelings however, so you let him sleep and leave him a brief note where he can see it letting him know where you are and telling him that you'll probably catch a late show again.

Then you grab your bag and slip into your exercise clothes and get ready to head out the door. You contemplate wearing the collar to the gym, but you decide against it.

You're still on Arianna time. Tuesday's shift doesn't start until later.

You head out to the gym and decide to keep the pace low. You're not as frantic with need as you have been the other times.

The bike is easy to ride and you do a little time on the elliptical and the treadmill.

But you aren't kidding yourself. You're counting down the minutes until you can leave and head to the Darkside.

You stare at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Your feet move inexorably forward on the treadmill as you force yourself to keep working. For some reason you don't want to be early. You dread being late, but you don't want to appear too eager, you just don't know why.

Finally, you outlast the clock and you head for the change room, towel tossed over your shoulder. You slip out of your work out clothes and head directly for the shower. How water blasts perspiration from your skin and you luxuriate in the water for a moment.

You got here early this time. You showered and changed early this time. You slip into a bathroom stall with a portable kit and clean out your bowels much earlier than last time. He didn't tell you to do that, but you'd rather be prepared than surprised.

You're ready. You slip into yoga pants that flatter your legs and a little tank top and some flats and then tie your hair back simply. He's never told you how he likes your hair, but he does seem to like it long, seemingly for no other reason than to grab it and control you with it.

And then as a last touch, you slip the little leather collar out of the velvet bag and carefully slide it around your neck. The leather seems warm and the latch clicks shut quietly as you put his token to you around your throat.

You look into the mirror as you prepare to go, and you stop and look at yourself.

Your eyes don't look hungry or haunted any more, you seem content, filled with purpose. The collar is snug to your skin and the little nameplate hangs coolly in place. It fits you like you were made for it.

And maybe you were made for it.

You head out the door of the room with your bag slung over your shoulder. It's time now.

Unlike last week, traffic doesn't fight you. The lights are all green and it's smooth driving. You get to the Darkside with almost ten minutes to spare, and you sit there, unsure what to do next. You can partially inside the window, and Padraic is calmly standing behind the bar working on something with a pen.

You look in the mirror on your car. You look good. But... you want to look sexy for him. You scramble through your purse and find a tube of balm and run it over your lips quickly.

You smack them together and feel pleased at the glossy look you just achieved. You don't wear a lot of makeup, but this look is nice.

The clock in the dashboard flashes to 10:55 and you're reminded that being late is very bad and will have consequences. You slip out of the car, swiftly cross the empty street and stride through the door.

You pause after you enter. Padraic keeps writing and doesn't look up.

You wait. You glance over at the clock above his head on the bar advertising an obscure brand of craft beer. The minute hand clicks quietly, and the hour becomes eleven.

And just like that, your name is no longer Arianna. You're Tuesday now. Your owner stands behind the bar deliberately ignoring you as he tabulates some figures.

He knows you're there. Little slips past him whenever you are around. The door isn't silent and this is his quiet night and he probably knew you were here when you were sitting in the car putting on lip balm for him.

So you wait. You would have been hurt or offended by this previously. Now it just arouses you. It's part of the game.

You don't know all the rules yet, or understand how to play it, or even know if it's possible to win. But you really like this game.

'On time tonight I see. That's a good sign.' He says finally without looking up.

'Yes sir.' You answer calmly.

'How was your week?'

'It was nice sir. Your gift made things easier. Like you said it would.'

He looks up at you with his analytical gaze. His glasses drift down his nose and he looks at you intently.

You shiver. He gives you these hard looks sometimes. It's like he's trying to see the real you, see what drives you to come to him again and again. It's like he can see that part of you that craves shame and fear and pain and submission in as intense a dose as you can get.

How does he see it? How does he understand you so well?

'No rules broken? And you're properly groomed now?'

You shiver when he says groomed. The way he says it, it sounds like he's referring to an animal. As if he was speaking about a dog or a sheep that needed shearing.

You like that little shiver. It crawls up your spine and curls around your brain and it whispers in your ear that 'playtime has begun.'

'Yes sir, as you instructed I have... groomed myself to your liking. And no, I did not break any of your rules. I was a good girl.'

You stammer that last part a little bit. It still feels odd to call yourself girl. That feels like his word to use, not yours.

'Well then, why don't you head into the back and change into something more appropriate for our time together. Do place your clothes in the box along with your phone and lock it up tight. I will be with you momentarily.'

And he looks down at his sheet of paper and you are dismissed.

'Playtime.' The little shiver whispers in your brain again.

You walk quietly to the back room and open the door back to the storage and play area. The various large pieces of equipment are all scattered about, but some are in different spots and a few things are there that you don't recognize. There's a large black box that looks like a coffin with some air holes. A new thick and intimidating set of stocks stands next to it.

This is a level of play you haven't seen or tried yet, but you have a feeling it's coming. They should scare you, but they don't. You get an entirely different sensation when you look at them, more impatient than terrified.

The table from last time is in the center of the room, along with a couple of metal folding chairs and the big metal box in the center of the table.

And some clothes are laying there waiting for you.

You sort them out, and then you realize that clothing might be an exaggeration. These are more like decorations, accoutrements for your body, to highlight your sexuality and to make you look even more submissive.

You like them.

There's a thick leather collar with heavy D-rings attached to it. A slim leather corset designed to cover your stomach and little else sits next to it. A pair of shoes in your size with impossibly high heels and silk laces that need to be tied to your feet sits next to the corset and collar. And finally, a pair of new, black, thigh high nylons sits next to them.

You scan the table quickly, and note that there is no bra and no underwear, not even a thong. It should distress you, but this is technically more clothing than you had last week.

You slip out of your comfortable yoga pants and the cute body hugging shirt and then your underwear. And for a few moments you stand naked in the back of a bar in the middle of a huge amount of equipment that most likely has not seen regular use since the inquisition calmly folding your clothing so that you can easily store it in a metal box.

It doesn't feel odd. It feels chilly. Padraic apparently has the heat turned down back here. Your nipples pop up hard and erect and let you know that you're not imagining the lower temperatures.

You slip the nylons on first as they are the easiest thing to slide into. The tops of the inky black hosiery cling to your thighs. They're surprisingly comfortable and warm.

The corset fits around your midsection and you contort your arms to draw the laces as tight as you can. It seems pointless to wear it, because you're the last person that needs a corset. Still, you like wearing it. It covers the scar from the C-section that you hate and it covers the stretch marks that are so faint you can barely see them except for every time you look in a mirror when it seems they've been illuminated by spotlights.

You draw the laces tight and wish you had a mirror. You want the corset to look good. You like corsets. They make you feel sexy and a little more kinky than usual.

The shoes go on next, and they pinch your toes a little and the black silk laces wrap around your ankle and the bottom of your calves. You fiddle with the tie and retie both feet twice, struggling to make the quasi bondage shoes look sexy and not clumsy and yet stay attached to your foot if you walk any distance.

Finally, you pick the collar up off the table, and this is the only part of this costume that you have a problem with. You already have a collar. You're wearing it now. He gave it to you and you don't want to take it off.

You're holding the new collar in your hand when Padraic appears in the doorway.

'Is there a problem girl?' He says in a dry tone.

You turn to him with an uncertain look on your face. It doesn't matter that you're half naked and dressed for sex. It doesn't matter that very shortly he'll be doing something cruel and borderline terrifying to you. (Truthfully, you're looking forward to that part.) What matters is that you've been waiting all week to wear this specific collar for him and now he wants you to wear a different one.

'I just... I mean... this collar...' You stumble over the words, unsure how to articulate what you're feeling.

Padraic just stands and watches you. He's clearly not in a rush. It's possible he's just enjoying watching you squirm while trying to find words for what you're feeling.

'I just... you gave me this collar... and...' You make a confused gesture at him.

Padraic nods. Then he walks over to you and simply picks up the new collar and holds it up in front of your face.

'Humour me for a second.' He says calmly, and you feel his hand slide around your neck.

He slips the little latch on Tuesday's collar and it slips into his hand. Your skin prickles with goose bumps at this simple touch. You feel a flush of heat, and you hope he can't see what an intense reaction his touch has on you.

Padraic sets the little black collar on the table, then he unhooks the latch on the larger one and slips it around your neck. This one is colder, heavier and it feels a little more snug and secure.

He gives it a tug. You lean forward a little.

He smiles at you. Then he yanks hard on the collar. You stumble forward and suddenly press against his chest. You look up at him, a little unnerved, and he smiles back down at you.

'The other collar is ownership. This one is a little more functional.'

'Oh.' You say quietly.

'Yes. Oh.'

He releases the heavy collar, and then turns to the table. He slides your purse and clothing into the box and then closes the lid of the box. The padlock slips into place, and then Padraic sets your collar on top of the box.

You smile. You still don't understand why but it would have upset you to have seen him lock the collar up like your clothing.

Padraic sees you smiling and he glares at you.

'Why are you smiling?'

'I just... I'm happy?'

You realize that you are happy. You also know that the games are about to start and he's going to start using you hard in ways you are utterly not prepared for.

And that's exactly what you want.

Padraic turns to face you and without looking, he unbuckles his belt and opens his pants. He hooks a chair with his foot and pulls it to him. Then he sits back on the chair and crooks a finger at you.

You walk over to him carefully, the heels and your own trepidation making you cautious. He smiles at your caution, and for what seems like the first time this evening he eyes your body.

You blush again; it's clear what he's thinking. You're thinking it too.

You get close enough and he reaches up and grips the front ring on your collar and drags your face down to his own. You can't help but emit a tiny little scream as he does so.

'What was that?' He says with a laugh.

'What was what?' You play dumb, incredibly embarrassed by the sound you just made.

'You went 'Eeeeeeeee!' It sounded like someone stabbed a gerbil.' He says with a wide grin on his face.

'I... I...' You feel hot as you blush intensely yet again. Dressed like a sex toy, about to do God knows what with a vicious sadist, and it's the funny sound you make that has you cringing while he laughs at you.

He pulls you closer to him and kisses you gently on the lips.

'You're funny sometime whore. I like that.'

You feel tightness in your chest, and you start to pant. He's confusing you right now. He's gentle with you and you know it won't last. You're actually eager for him to start. He watches your face and your body and the smile fades into a knowing leer.

'Someone's eager to begin.' He says calmly.

You just nod, afraid to make the stabbed gerbil sound again.

'You don't come until I tell you, and you're done asking questions now. Clear?' His voice is rough now, and clearly he's getting aroused as well.

'Clear sir.' You say quietly, hoping your tiny voice doesn't sound like a rodent's death throes.

He pulls you to him, and you've forced to straddle him. You feel his thick, hot and pulsing erection through his unbuckled pants. It presses against your naked sex and throbs gently.

You moan quietly. You know he likes to use you and you literally cannot wait for him to take you somewhere and begin another round of play. You don't care which orifice he decides to use, you just want him to be in you and you don't want him to be gentle about it.

You unconsciously drape your arms around his neck and lean forward. You badly want to kiss him, to be intimate with him. But you need him to initiate it. It feels wrong when you start, and it feels like you're breaking rules.

You settle for just brushing his lips with your own. You breathing increases and you feel a little dizzy, almost like you're hyperventilating. Just being here with him is putting you over the edge. Anticipation is killing you now.

You feel him lay his hand on your behind and his fingers trace down your buttock and slide down your thigh. He tickles the back of your knee and you squeal again and then blush.

'Heh, another dead gerbil.' He remarks. You stay silent, biting your lip to try and contain any further squeaks.

Abruptly, he pulls you to him and slides his mouth down to your naked breast. Your nipple slides between his lips and teeth and he bites down gently but firmly. You resist and urge to buck against him. He gently flicks the little bud of flesh with his tongue while he pins it between his sharp teeth. His hands slide up your thighs and grip your buttocks firmly, squeezing your skin and sending a shiver up your spine again.

You breaths are rapid and his body is hot against yours and he's manhandling you with just a tiny bit of roughness. You want more, and you feel your need swelling inside you like a balloon against your ribcage. You hate this feeling. It's like a funny little ache and tickle inside your stomach and it just gets worse and worse until either your husband has his way with you or unless you are really violent with your own body.

Or more recently, if Padraic has his way with you then the feeling is obliterated for days.

You like it when he has his way with you. You feel free then, no longer a slave to your needs. You don't stumble around in a haze and you can focus.

You idly wonder if you can get Padraic in pill form and chuckle.

'Something funny girl?' He asks you with a raised eyebrow.

'Sorry sir. I was just thinking...' You say quietly. You voice is surprisingly breathy.

'What were you thinking about?' He asks you. His hands pull your buttocks apart and a finger probes between your cheeks.

'I was just thinkiiiiiiyyIINGGGHH!' You squeal as a finger slides across your rectum and then presses inside you.