Tuesday Ch. 02

'I did not tell you to stop speaking.' He says calmly.

'I-I-I...' You stammer. This little violation has scrambled your thoughts.

He reaches up and grips the D-ring on the collar and pulls your face down to him. He kisses you hard and with passion, and at the same time a second finger pushes inside your tiny orifice. You shudder at the second, now more intense violation but his lips hold you steady and allow you to focus.

Sort of.

'Oh God.' You pant as you come up for air.

'Keep talking girl.' He commands.

You take a deep breath and focus with all your will. You are where you want to be after all, pressed against him, at his mercy, ready to take what he will give you.

'I was just ... just thinking ... sir. That I ... I wish ... I wish they made you in... pill form.' You manage to stammer to him.

'And why do you want me in pill form?'

'Because .... When... after I'm with you... I feel calm. Centered. It's like... like there's a piece of me that's ... missing. And when I've been... with you and... and you've done things to me... the hole... it's gone. It's just gone.'

He looks at you intently for a long minute and then he just nods.

Then he smiles.

'They don't make me in pill form girl. But I can give you something to swallow.'

You spend the next ten minutes on your knees, using your tongue and lips and saliva to coax his seed from his manhood. And when you do, he just grunts and holds you in place until you've swallowed the medicine.

You gasp for air and your jaw aches. But he pats you gently on the cheek and smiles at you.

'You're a good little whore Tuesday.' He says with a not unkind tone.

You pant and beam up at him.

'Shall we walk to my place and really play girl?'

'Yes please sir. I... really have looked forward to seeing you again.' And you suddenly find yourself involuntarily hugging his leg and kissing his knee suddenly.

He chuckles and you feel his hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair. It's like you're a pet.

You're entirely fine with that feeling.

Still, it only lasts a moment. Padraic rises out of his chair and buckles up his pants and belt and leads you to the back door. Unlike last week, you're glad when he leads you out into the alley clad in only a few scraps of leather while tottering in absurdly high heeled shoes.

Unlike last time, Padraic gives you his arm to cling to as you navigate the back alley with him. You step nimbly between bags of garbage and boxes of refuse as you head towards his apartment.

You're nearly there when Padraic stops and looks down an alley. You recognize it. This is Roy's alley. It stinks of urine and vomit and despair. Padraic doesn't acknowledge any of it. He just turns down the alley and leads you both to the back of the dead end.

Roy is laying on a fairly new piece of cardboard. He's covered in vomit and he seems to have wet his pants too. He snores an ugly, choking snore as he lies on his side and cuddles the mostly empty bottle of cheap vodka to his chest.

Padraic sighs, then lets go of your arm. He fishes out a pair of twenties from his pocket and looks around. He finally spies another half empty bottle of cloudy booze and sets it on top of the money in a spot where Roy will see it when he wakes up.

Then he stands and just stares at Roy for a moment, his face unreadable.

You were afraid that Padraic was going to offer you to him again. Now you feel guilty. There's something else going on here. He's checking on his friend. You'd bet money that he checks on him every night.

You feel awkward, dressed up like a hooker while Roy lies unconscious in his own filth. You shuffle your feet quietly and rub your arms in the chill night air.

The clicking of your heels rouses him from his reverie, and he looks over at you.

'Let's go.' He orders you quietly and you both move out of the stench of the alley.

It only takes a few minutes to get to Padraic's apartment from the alley, and moments later you're clanking up the metal stairs to his apartment. You lean against the railing to allow him to unbolt the lock and moments later you're inside his place again.

You look around, not much has changed. The kitchen is quiet with a couple of coffee cups and beer bottles sitting forlornly on the counter. The bathroom door is half open. The shower door sports a different color of towel and someone actually put a roll of toilet paper on the spindle.

The wooden floor leads down to the lounge. The lounge with the big comfortable leather couch and the big TV and the fridge full of beer and ice cold lubricant and four video cameras to record your most intimate violations.

You remember this room. It's seared into your mind.

You walk unbidden down the hallway to the lounge. Your heels click and clack off the wooden floor.

The analytical part of your mind finds it amusing how much easier it is to walk in these shoes once you stop thinking about them. You click all the way down the hallway to the lounge and look inside.

It's the same Spartan room that you remember, but now he's added a table off to the side. You walk closer and see that he's laid things on top of it with surgical precision. Rope and lubricant and clamps and leather cuffs lie neatly on the table. A steel circle sits next to the handcuffs, two leather straps neatly folded around it.

'See anything you like girl?' He asks you from the doorway as he leans languidly against the frame.

'Yes sir.' You respond quickly but quietly.

'What do you like there?'

'All of it. I like all of it sir.'

Your stomach flutters. He's obviously planned this out for tonight. You want to start so badly it's taking all your self control to not walk to him and begin kissing and groping him. You know that would get you in trouble.

And you want to be in trouble. You do. You want a firm hand and a sharp voice and the sting and the crack of an open hand on skin and the trembling that goes with it.

You want him to crush your will and take from you. You want it badly.

He walks into the room and plucks a remote off the table. He clicks the button and the TV comes to life. The image flickers for a second, and then you hear a girl squealing and gasping and the sound of flesh slapping off of flesh.

You can see your petite frame pinned between Travis and Padraic. You can see Travis thrusting away into you, using your body for pleasure. Padraic whispers appalling things into your ear as he bucks into you. The picture is crude, but it's clearly you, bound and penetrated by two tall, aggressive men.

Your skin flushes as you stare at the screen. You feel your nipples harden intensely as your crotch goes from aroused to damp to nearly dripping.

Padraic walks past the screen and sits in the corner of the couch, against some comfy cushions. He pats his leg and looks at you pointedly.

You nod obediently and move to him. You nearly trip crossing the room; the pictures on the screen keep drawing your eyes to them.

As you slide into Padraic's lap, you practically relive that moment. It's hard not to. The ropes biting into your skin, the ache in your shoulders, your calves and throbbing feet combining with your pummelled and well penetrated orifices are pushing you well past any sense of familiarity or comfort. You remember it vividly.

His jeans are worn and just slightly rough against your skin. The adrenaline suddenly bursting through your bloodstream makes you shiver and you cuddle against him desperate for his body warmth. He pulls you to him, his hands slide across your skin and explore your body. You quiver as he squeezes a plump breast and tweaks a nipple and you whimper quietly as a pair of fingers slip between your lips and dip into the slippery pool of lust between your legs.

You writhe under his touch. He casually violates and gropes you and your only complaint is that he isn't more aggressive with you.

Padraic gives your breast a firm squeeze, then reaches over and picks up the remote again. He rewinds the video for about a minute and then stops it on a section where the camera is focused on your face.

You're giving a desperate whine, and then your eyes get very wide and your mouth opens but no sound comes out. You open and close your mouth several times, at one point you shudder and a little creaking whimper escapes your throat.

'You know what that is girl?' Padraic whispers in your ear.

'Yes sir.'

'Tell me.'

'That's me, when Travis was fucking me.'

'And where was he fucking you girl?' His hand slips up around your collar and he pulls you to him again. His face is mere inches from yours and your heart pounds and your throat feels constricted as you face him.

'He was fucking my ass sir.' You whisper.

'Wasn't someone else fucking you girl? At the same time?'

'Yes sir. You were fucking me sir.'

It's hard to breathe. Not because of a physical problem, but because the intensity of the memory, coupled with his hands roaming your body and the feel of your naked skin against him is driving you berserk. You feel driven, compelled to give yourself to him.

You know he only has pain and shame and violation for you. He knows it too.

You turn to him, lean towards his face and brush your lips against his and gently, tenderly kiss him. Your breathing is erratic, you pant like you'd just sprinted half a mile.

'My master. My master was fucking me.' You say to him in a hushed tone. Your voice cracks a little towards the end. You don't care. You're here, touching him, he's doubtlessly getting ready to do something cruel to you.

And this is as it should be.

He looks at you with a serious look on his face as he mulls something in his mind.

You can't help yourself. You lean in and kiss him on the lips again. Then gently press your lips against his cheek and neck. You've waited so long for someone, anyone like him that is seems impossible to hold back physical affection for him.

He slips a hand behind your back and grips your hair firmly, pulling your head back. His other hand grips your thigh and pulls you to him. You moan quietly, your body throbbing for his touch.

'Somebody's eager for it.' He says quietly.

'I am sir. I am.' You close your eyes and wait for what's next.

His fingers slide between your legs and then slip inside you. Your body shivers involuntarily at his touch.

'I've got something especially cruel in mind for you tonight. You don't mind do you girl?' He hisses into your ear.

'Oh God sir. Please do. Please be cruel.' You reply in a tiny little girl's voice.

His fingers swirl inside you. The tips dance across that part of you that screams pleasure into your brain. You wheeze and squirm under his touch as he manipulates your body with ease.

Of course, your screaming need makes it easier for him to manipulate you like this.

He leans in, kisses your neck lustfully. His lips drag across your skin. The hint of stubble from a twelve hour old shave scrapes across your skin and it feels like delicious trails of fire as his mouth works its way down your throat and across your collarbones to your breasts.

His kisses are driving you wild. He drags a finger across your clitoris at the same time as his teeth gently seize your nipple and tug on it.

'OH GOD! PLEASE SIR!' You shriek, as you struggle to not climax and defy him.

You squirm in his lap as he toys with you and manipulates your flesh. He only teases you for a few minutes, but it seems like hours of throbbing need. Your skin is hypersensitive to his touch and he ruthlessly exploits that against you.

It never occurs to you that this is the exact opposite of what you expected. His hands and his touch are like a skilled lover for you and the exact opposite of a cruel sadist.

So when he suddenly stands up and dumps you onto the couch, you squeal in surprise.

'Wha.... I what... sir?' You ask him with as much.

'You're so eloquent girl.' He says with a chuckle. 'It isn't that I don't like pleasuring you, but that's not really why you're here. Are you girl?'

You stare up at him. His face is hard but his eyes are grey and they share his smile as he looks down at you.

'Yes sir. Yes.' You stammer. 'But if you wanted to make... an exception I would not complain at all.'

That makes him laugh.

'Oh no girl. We can't do that. You're here for... different reasons.' He says that last sentence with a subtle air of menace, and as he does so he moves to the table and picks of the coil of thin, strong rope. His hands skilfully start to unspool it as he watches you with just a hint of a smile.

You can't help but smile back. He's right. This is something you can't get anywhere else.

First he has you display himself to him. You're a little befuddled at the request at first. You're pretty much naked already.

But soon you understand. He has you lie back on the couch and spread your legs wide. You hold yourself open so he can see your passion and arousal. Then he runs a hand along your extended legs and up your torso. You tremble at his touch, because this isn't foreplay.

He's measuring you, judging how much you can take tonight.

This is something he seems to do to you. He gets a good feel for how much you can handle, and then he just inflicts exactly as much as you can take, for as long as you can take it... and sometimes just a fraction longer and harder.

God you love it when he does that.

You look up and he walks to the table and runs his hand over the things he has placed there. He picks up the steel ring and the rope and then strides back to you.

The ring lands in your lap as he tosses it casually there. You look up at him for direction.

'Do I have to tell you where that goes?'

He does not. You slide the ring between your teeth and then secure the buckles around your head. You almost immediately begin to feel the pangs of ache in your jaw.

The rope comes next. You stand for him and expect him to bind your hands, but he doesn't. He slips a loop of rope around your neck and starts to coil it around your throat in a manner similar to your earlier time together. You remember him controlling your breath and you swoon a little. You're so overwhelmed when he does that to you, you feel completely under his control.

You can't help but touching his arms as he ties the rope around your throat. He smiles at you as you do it.

'Behave girl.' He says with a tiny smirk.

He sees your need. He'll start when he's ready.

The ring you strapped around your head makes you drool. You wipe it away and blush a little.

He completes the loop around your neck and gives it a little tug. You lean forward a little. You would smile at him if you could, but the ring in your mouth prevents it. You know exactly what is coming next.

The rope twists in his hands. Your throat constricts. You gasp for air that isn't there.

But you keep your hands at your sides. You don't fight him at all. Your ache to submit is greater than your need for air. At least for the moment it is.

He watches you quietly squirm but not resist for a moment and then he does something unexpected. He leans in and kisses you. It feels lovely and scary at the same time, because it's a surprising level of gentleness that you don't expect and it contrasts with the firm grip he has on the rope around your throat.

He kisses you until you start to tremble from air loss and you flutter your hands in desperation. Then he leans back and releases the rope. You gasp for air but otherwise remain still for him.

He smiles at you.

'You really are turning into a good little whore.'

You can't help but beam at him. It's a little diminished by the stream of drool dribbling out of your mouth, but you feel like you're not just getting what you need from this arrangement. Your submission is pleasing him as well.

Of course, the moment ends, and then he continues binding you. And submitting becomes less easy and more strenuous.

First, he slips a rope around your waist and snugs it tight against your skin. That itself is not that bad, but he slips the end of the rope between your legs and then between your lips and draws the rope up the coil around your throat. He secures the line to the loop around your throat and then ties it off.

At first it's uncomfortable. Then it starts to throb and abrade your tender flesh. You whimper a little and hunch forward to relieve pressure from the rope. A small lake of saliva spills from your locked open mouth. It drips from your chin and down your chest. You groan something unintelligible.

He just smiles at you, that insufferable, irritating smile that he gives you when he knows he's getting to you. God you hate and love that smile at the same time.

It's what he does next that puts you right at your limit though.

Another coil of rope is produced. He binds your ankles together tightly. Then the loose rope is strung up your back and attached to the coil of rope around your neck. Carefully, cruelly, he draws the line tighter and tighter until it starts to choke you. You bend your knees to accommodate the line, but he just draws it even tauter.

Eventually, you have to press up with your arms and arch your back to keep the line from cutting off your air. And when you do that, you realize just how diabolically he tied you up as the rope between your legs becomes tense and bites into your tender flesh.

'Nnnngghhh!' you wail. Submission and discipline is forgotten now. This is pure torment and you get to control what type of torment you receive until you elect to move to the other kind. Strangle or suffer. Suffocate or chafe. The decision is left to you.

You press up with your arms to take pressure off your throat. It's hard. The rope bites into you instantly. You make the same sound you made earlier, but this time you don't care if you sound like a tiny mouse. You just wish it would stop.

But you can stop it. So you lean forward until the pressure drops and the rope tightens around your throat. You struggle for air until you can't take any more and then you push up with your trembling arms and arch your back again.

Padraic sits back on the couch for a few minutes and watches you struggle impassively.

It's comforting to know that he's paying attention. You're afraid that your arms will give out and you'll start to choke unconscious. You know he won't let that happen. You also know that he's perfectly willing to let you get almost to that point before he does cut you loose.

He does get up and wander over to the fridge while he watches you to retrieve a beer. Then he returns to the couch and sits comfortably across from you. Your arms quiver as you hold yourself up so that you can breathe and endure the rope biting between your legs.

'You look uncomfortable girl.' He says finally.

You nod your head, a small lake of drool dribbles off your chin.

'Is it difficult?'

You can't help but glare at him for that one. Does it not *look* difficult?

'I'll take that as a yes then.'

'Thww haheee hurrhh!' You protest to him. Spit pools on your chest as you complain.

'How eloquent.' Padraic replies. You groan and focus on breathing.

Your focus and discomfort is so profound that you miss someone walking down the hallway until they're standing next to Padraic. You look over and see striped blue and white striped stockings covering long slender legs and shoes even more punishing than your own.

You look up in confusion, and Morgan looks down at you with a concerned smile of her own.

'Hi Ari.' She says quietly.

You stare back up at her, dumbfounded. She's changed her hair color to a bright blue now, and she's wearing a leather miniskirt and a tank top, but this is the same pretty, funny girl that directed you to the Darkside and Padraic three weeks ago.

What the hell is she doing here? Is Padraic going to share your body with her now too?