Rule of Thumb Ch. 15

Eventually she wound down, resting her head on my shoulder and breathing more regularly. I had sat back on my heels at some point and my knees were feeling a little strained.

"Would you like to go into the living room and talk about it?"

She murmured something I decided was a 'yes,' and gently peeled her back, carefully unfolding, my joints crackling. I sat her on the couch and gave her a comforter to cover herself, went to the kitchen to put her tart on a plate and fixed her a cup of tea. By the time I got back she had curled up and lied down, apparently asleep.

"It's okay," she mumbled, her eye peeking up at me. "I'm awake. Come on and sit down with me." She patted the cushion near her head.

I didn't know where the conversation, or evening would lead, but I decided I didn't want to disturb a possible future moment and peeled off my pants and shirt. When I sat down, she rested her head on my naked thigh, my hand brushing her hair from her face.

"Why didn't you stop it, Loren?" I asked her in a curious way, not judgmentally.

She shrugged, a tear tickling my thigh. "I tried. I was screaming it in my head. Every time that wave of pain went through me, I tried. I thought I had, I really did. I couldn't even remember my safe tune. What did she do to me?"

I stroked her cheek and let my hand drift down to her neck and collar bone. "Loren. She didn't do anything to you that you didn't let happen. Please. You're scaring me a little."

She turned to look up at my face, her eyes brimming with tears. "I swear I tried, Rick. I just couldn't. I...I..." She closed her eyes and the tears flowed down her temples onto my thighs. I continued to stroke her skin, my fingers traveling down to her breasts to lightly rub her nipples, hoping to ease any residual pain.

She arched her back slightly. I'm not sure she was conscious of doing it and at one point she seemed to moan a little, the rhythm of her breathing changed. Eventually, she looked up again. "Now what," she whispered.

I shrugged and scrunched my mouth. "I think it's still up to you, Loren. Do you want to be my slave? Do you want to have me pierce your vagina with a gold-plated electrode? Do you want to have Shelly initiated by Mistress Anna? I'm fat dumb and happy, here. Master Rick, sovereign king of all he surveys."

She actually giggled a little, moving her hand up to my thigh. "Did you really mean it? Do you really want me to be pierced?"

I felt that surge of adrenaline again, the feeling of having power over her, of inflicting not only pain at the piercing, but the knowledge she had submitted to being punished again and again. My cock pulsed, bumping against her ear.

She sighed and turned a little. "I take that as a yes. A second time." She went silent, her fingers playing with the hairs on my legs. "I thought you didn't want me to be your slave." It was quiet.

The scene at Anna's house played over and over again – Loren strapped to the column, the trainer pulsing through her. It seemed far away, like in a dream. It didn't fit in this room, the way we were just now. "I don't know, Loren. I don't need you to be my slave. I still don't know what exactly you need or even want. You still need to be punished. You seem to have bought into the scene tonight. What am I supposed to believe, especially when you have the power to stop it and you don't?"

I continued to stroke her breasts, my cock pushing against her temple. "You were right, what you said just now in the front hall. I see that now. She would have just done it next week, or the week after until you submitted. She thinks she knows you. She's witchy that way. I really think she may have bugged the house." I barked a small laugh, but the notion didn't sound all that farfetched. I had to call Gordy tomorrow...from a Starbucks. "Does she?"

She looked at me confused. "Does she...know me?"

"Umm hmmm." I stopped my caressing. She needed to get real – did she want the pain, the submission, the total commitment Anna asked of her, or not?

She sat up, pulling the comforter around her and looked at the tea and tart. "Do I want to be your slave?" She looked at me as if I had just admitted to killing puppies.

I held my hands back and let her think about it.

She shook her head, whether in disbelief, denying the thought, or from confusion, and reached for the tea. The comforter dropped to her waist. Her nipples were red and swollen, small indentations from the clips still visible. She sat back with the tea and stared in front of her, thinking. "I. don't...think...so..."

I put my arm around her shoulder and stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt whatever thought process was going on. I didn't need her to be my slave. It sounded like too much responsibility, frankly, and it was never my intention, regardless of what Anna's twisted sixth sense told her.

"Maybe..." She set down the tea and took a bite of tart. "You made me eat my dinner on all fours, like a dog!" She looked over at me in disbelief, slapping my thigh, hard.

"Ouch!" I pulled her hand away, turning her slightly. The movement slid the comforter away from her waist, exposing her further. "Stop blaming me!" I said it with a smile to soften the message, but I meant it. "Please."

"If I'm your slave, why don't you just order me to do whatever you want? Why bother asking or saying please?" She sounded a little petulant, but I detected something else at play.

"I'll tell you how we're going to play this," I decided. It was getting late. Late at night, late into our relationship. Just late. I was not interested in playing a game if the rules kept shifting. One of us was going to get hurt and maybe permanently.

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing and then widening when she saw I was getting serious. "What? Oh shit. Shit Rick, please, don't get all steely-eyed on me."

I had no idea I got steely-eyed. I was just getting decisive. "It's okay, Loren," I said soothingly, rubbing her shoulders lightly. "Shhh...it's okay. You've been through a lot tonight. You're confused. I get that. But it just occurred to me that I think you really do want to be my slave. It all clicked. Anna might be right. You don't want to take responsibility for the way you feel, for the needs you have. You want me to force you to do the things you really, deep inside, want to do. Regardless, until I hear you say your safe word, I'm going to behave as if the commitment you made with the trainer running current through you, was given truthfully, from your heart."