Tuesday Ch. 02

Part of you is appalled by that thought. Part of you secretly hopes that is the plan after all. The rest of you focuses on not letting the rope choke you unconscious and trying to ignore the sadistic torment the rope between your legs has become.

'Are you sure you want to do this to her?' She asks Padraic.

Do what?! What exactly?!

'Absolutely.' Padraic says as he takes a pull from the long necked bottle of beer that he holds in his hand.

'All right. Are we going into...'

'We're doing it right here, where she can watch. I need to keep an eye on her anyways.' He responds calmly.

You stare at them both for a moment perplexed and terrified. What the hell do they have planned for you?

Padraic stands up and sets the beer aside. Then he starts to unbutton his work shirt.

'When did you get this cruel Paddy?' Margo asks him quietly.

'You know me. I learned from the best.' He responds as he slips out of his clothing.

'I suppose you did.' Morgan says quietly as she looks away for a moment.

You watch him, confused. Then you notice that Morgan is slipping out of her clothing too. The tank top slips away and reveals her pert little breasts and the shiny glint of a pair of nipple rings. Her skin is pale and fine and she has some interesting tattoos twisting down her back.

You still stare at them both in confusion, then Padraic steps forward and pulls Morgan to him. She twists her head up and presses her lips against his hard. His hand slides down her back and slips down to cup her behind.

You freeze. The rope around your neck is of no consequence because you can't breathe. The bite of the rope, the ache in your arms, the spasms running up and down your spine, all of it fades into simple white noise.

Because your master brought you here, and tied you up so you could suffer for him and now he's kissing another woman right in front of you.

This seems like a different type of suffering. It's oddly painless, but so much more intense. Your elbow quivers as you watch Morgan unbuckle his belt and then unbutton his jeans. She runs her manicured finger nails down his stomach and inside his jeans.

'You're hard as a rock Padraic!' Morgan says with a giggle.

'I've been watching her squirm and whimper for half an hour now. It's arousing.'

'Well, she's right there. Why didn't you... just... you know?' Morgan says looking back at you with a confused shrug.

Padraic just chuckles, he slips his arm from around his waist and sits on the couch in front of you and your trembling arms. He cups your chin and forces you to look up into his face and into his eyes.

'Because I want her to watch. I want her to sit her to struggle and suffer and know that just because she whimpers and cries she's not going to get her way.'

Padraic absentmindedly wipes away a stream of drool from your chin with his thumb. His other hand slides around your neck and grips your hair.

'I want her to understand that when she's here, what she wants is not relevant. She's here to serve. She's here to obey. She's here to submit. She's here to do what she's told.'

Padraic absentmindedly traces a finger along your face. He stares into your watering eyes. It's intensely intimate and terrifying at the same time.

You wonder if he is deliberately making you look up at him like this because it makes the rope bite harder between your legs. You think he probably is, just because he never seems to miss an opportunity to make a situation more intense for you.

'That seems pretty cruel.' Morgan says quietly.

'It does.' Padraic agrees. 'But I'm pretty certain that it's exactly what the little cunt wants.'

The shiver shoots up your spine again when he calls you that.

He says that to you and lifts your chin higher and you know for certain that he's deliberately lifting your head to make the rope hurt more because you let out a tiny whimper and he smiles.

'Isn't that true Tuesday?' He asks you.

You can't talk or even make faint vestiges of any words through the ring gag, so you just nod your head.

If this is what he wants you to do, you're going to do it.

And you do.

He lets go of your chin, and your head drops. This mercifully releases the tension on your now sore and slowly becoming very raw sex, but as your head bobs forward the rope tightens around your throat and you gag a little. It takes you a moment to find the balance between strangling and misery again but when you do you see that Morgan has shed her leather miniskirt and is sliding a see through black thong down her legs. Padraic has already slid out of his jeans and sits back on the couch a few feet from you.

Morgan climbs on to him. They kiss passionately, like they know each other. His hands run across her body, and it's not like when he's with you. He touches her for pleasure and she likes it. She kisses him with lust and he likes it.

And you watch. Like a good little girl.

It isn't too bad to watch, at first. It's kind of like watching porn.

They kiss and lick and grope. But then Padraic turns so that you have a clear view of Morgan mounting him. And you watch his manhood slip inside her and see her throw her blue hair back and EXULT how good it feels. And he stares directly at you as she does it.

And then you feel a pang of something. Something crumbles inside you and you desperately wish you were her. Not because you're alternating between choking and aching, but because she's riding him and you aren't allowed to.

A tiny animal sound escapes you. It's not even a whimper. It's a tiny plea to him.

Please sir.

Please.

He's still watching you. He just shakes his head and gives you a grim smile.

'You just keep watching girl. You keep your eyes on us and watch the whole thing.'

You nod once more, like an obedient pet. Drool dribbles from your chin and your arms are beginning to ache, but you follow his commands to the letter.

You watch them passionately couple; you watch her mouth and hands on your master. You see her buck and ride and groan. You Padraic use his mouth on her in ways she loudly exclaims are fantastic in no uncertain terms. And you watch her humping and bucking grow in intensity until she's screaming in passion.

You watch Padraic make her come two, three and finally four times. And then you watch her grind on him until he finally gasps and closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her. You see his manhood buried in her to the hilt and you see her shaking against him as they both gently hold each other.

Padraic finally groans and opens his eyes and remembers that you are there, bound and struggling and aching and he gives you a simple smile and asks you a simple question.

'Did you enjoy the show whore?' He says calmly, as if he were asking you what time it was or if you'd like a cup of coffee.

You can't respond. You don't know how. He just completely obliterated your illusion that you had any sense of control or respect or intimacy in this arrangement. He made it very clear that you are a toy to be played with. And on one hand, you are so turned on by his utterly unforgiving dominance of you that you can feel a small pool of your lust beneath your hips as it slithers down the rope between your legs.

And on the other hand, it was agony watching him have passionate sex with someone else directly in front of you. You feel small and brittle and helpless.

And you think that is exactly how he intended you to feel.

Fortuitously, you don't have to answer his question, because at that exact moment the screaming muscles in your left arm give out from trying to maintain the vicious and unforgiving posture you are in and your head jerks forward. Your throat slams shut and you panic and claw at the rope around your neck. After nearly thirty minutes holding this pose and undergoing the most brutal of head games, you're in no shape to try and maintain calmness or think rationally. The room spins, and you feel your strength leaving your fingers.

Padraic flings Morgan off of his lap with ease and is on you as fast as he can be. He grabs you by the hair firmly, reaches behind your skull and tugs on a loose strand of rope. The tie falls away from your neck suddenly and you can suddenly gasp air into your oxygen starved lungs.

'Just breathe girl. Just breathe.' Padraic says as he rubs your back and starts to loosen the rope around your ankles. You nod obediently and your shoulders heave as you breathe with ease for the first time in a while.

You feel someone else touching you and when you look up you see Morgan looking down at you with a look of awkward concern. She brushes hair away from your face and kneels down to speak to you.

'Take deep breaths Ari, you're fine. It's ok.' She says softly and with as much reassurance as she can.

You nod your head and try to follow her instructions, but when you do, you take in her scent. And her scent is mingled with his scent. And your brain simply cannot process that right now.

And the great heaving gasps for air turn into great heaving sobs as you break down and tears begin to stream down your face.

'Oh Ari.' Morgan says sadly and she leans in to hug you and give you comfort.

You feel a strong hand on your back and you know Padraic is rubbing your muscles, using his touch to help calm you.

And one part of you can only marvel at him while the rest of you weeps from the protracted torment and humiliation. He may have no desire to leave marks that can be seen, but he certainly knows how to leave a mark deep inside you.

Morgan wraps you up in her arms and gently hugs you tight as you cry.

'It's ok Ari. It's Ok!' She whispers in your ear and rocks you like she was comforting a child.

She's more right than she knows. If you ever needed a more vivid demonstration that Padraic can and will be as cruel as you need him to be, you don't know what it could be.

Because you'll feel this mark for a while, you know this for fact.

Morgan gently comforts you for a time as you cry and try and sort out your emotions. Padraic rubs your back for a time and then he steps away into the other room for a moment and returns with a blanket that he drapes around your slight frame.

It's warm bordering on hot. You look up at him with watery eyes and struggle to regain control of yourself.

'Tha... (Sniffle)... thank you sir.' You tell him with an emotional and squeaky voice.

'You're welcome girl. Are you feeling a little better now?'

You just nod and shiver underneath the blanket. You do feel better, but this session took you to your absolute physical and emotional limit. You feel completely spent.

Morgan wraps the blanket around you firmly and rubs her hands up and down your arms. The little gold rings in her nipples glimmer. You eye her and feel a little jealous. She is so confident of her sexuality it's ridiculous. You know she never has any problems expressing what she wants or needs.

Then again, the thought of dying your hair blue or piercing your nipples makes you shiver. You just aren't like her. She's seemingly fearless. You can't imagine just walking into a room and having wild sex while anyone else watches.

'How did you get a hot blanket?' Morgan asks Padraic suddenly.

'I put it in the dryer when we started.'

Morgan gives him an odd look. He gives her an odd look back. You feel like you're missing an important conversation somehow.

Morgan looks back at you and smiles.

'Ari, I'm going to go clean up, are you ok if I do that?'

You nod. She's a little sweaty and the seat she's sitting on is slick with the residue of their intense coupling. You feel a little jealous, but it's strictly based on the fact that you haven't had an orgasm in over two weeks and she just had four while you struggled to breathe.

Also because it was Padraic she was riding. You like her a lot, but you still have an intense urge to claw her eyes out.

Morgan pats you on the knee and heads for the door clad in only her striped blue and white stockings and her ridiculously high heeled shoes and her fearless demeanour. She disappears down the hallway heading towards the bathroom and then you hear her call back and ask Padraic for a towel.

Padraic sighs, pats you on the shoulder and tells you he'll be right back. He disappears into the hallway and is gone longer than you would normally expect to just hand someone a towel. You hear a quiet but intense conversation near the bathroom that confirms that the towel was the absolute last thing on either of their minds.

Finally, Padraic returns. He walks into the room still naked, although his manhood is no longer full and erect.

You find that mildly disappointing.

He sits on the couch next to you and pats the spot between his legs. You look at him numbly; nod and then slip out of the blanket and kneel before him. You're just reaching forward to take him into your mouth when he stops you.

'What are you doing?' He says with a confused look on his face.

'You... you patted between your legs... and I thought...' You trail off, suddenly embarrassed.

He smiles at you briefly. It's not a mean smile or the smile he uses on you sometimes when he's preparing for something vicious. It's just a smile.

You look up at his face and the roiling emotions inside you quiet a bit. You still feel confused and overwhelmed, but it's not as intense as it was just a few seconds ago.

'Just have a seat here girl.' He says quietly. 'I want to have a talk with you.'

'Yes sir.' You respond obediently. You have no idea what is going to happen next. But you get to sit in-between his legs and press against his naked skin, so this can't be all that bad.

You stand and look at him awkwardly, unsure how or where to sit. Should you sit on his knee? After a moment of confusion, he starts to look at you with impatience and you turn and sit down between his legs and slide up against him. His skin is actually quite warm, and as you press your skin against his, you feel the chill in the room more intensely.

You're about to ask if this is what he wanted when you feel his hands on your shoulders and his thumbs start to dig into your still aching muscles.

He's not gentle in his ministrations, but you don't want him to be. He starts to pull and dig into muscle that you've worked pretty hard over the last hour and it aches and feels wonderful at the same time.

'GAHHH!' You yelp as he finds and then works a particularly large knot. He chuckles at your little shriek and keeps massaging your shoulders. You squirm as his hands knead your flesh and you unconsciously grind against him. A moment later you groan as the knot releases and his fingers run down your spine.

'Morgan thinks that you and I should talk.' He says calmly as he works your muscles.

You're taken aback. This isn't part of the equation. You're here to be... a toy, a plaything. Playthings don't have opinions. They are played with and then put away.

Or at least that is what you've been telling yourself.

'What... what does Morgan think we should talk about sir?' You ask with genuine confusion.

'She has concerns girl. She thinks I am using you too hard and I'm not being fair to you.'

'I see.' You respond after a moment.

His hands drift up to your neck and his strong fingers pluck at the muscles on your neck. You melt as he does things to you and his fingers drift along your skin and plucks at the hair on your scalp.

'What do you see girl?' He whispers in your ear.

'She's wrong Sir.' It slips from your lips without hesitation.

'Why is she wrong girl? I do play with you pretty hard.'

As he says it he drags his fingers down your scalp, then his fingers start dragging across the tiny muscles attached to the mandible of your jaw. You emit a little gasp as he touches and massages places you didn't even really know were there.

You turn your head suddenly and raise a hand to his face to hold him in place so you can press your lips to his face passionately. It surprises him for a moment and then he kisses you back. It's a long, wet, lusty embrace and you make it clear that you don't feel abused or hurt at all.

Your lips make a wet sound as you finally pull away from him. Your pant quietly as you looks at him. His weathered face and whitish blond spiky hair look even more stark than they normally do. His glasses have been set aside so he squints at you. He looks intimidating.

It doesn't matter.

'Because I want more Sir. I do.'

Your hand reaches up and gently grips his fingers with your own shaky digits. You squeeze them gently and then kiss them in an almost worshipful manner.

You know he has more to show you. You're certain that even as cruel and trying as these times with him have been, he's still holding back. And you know he's not doing it to deny you these things, he's protecting you. He keeps you safe from your own dark fantasies.

Damn him.

Your other hand reaches up and gently pulls him away from the gentle massage of your facial muscles and pulls it down to the soft and suddenly goose pimpled skin of your right breast. You pull him to it and he cups your flesh in his warm, rough skin and gently squeezes you as he does so. Long, work worn fingers drag across the nipple and it becomes erect and hard at his touch.

Even when he's gentle, he's not. He isn't built for cuddling.

You look up from the calloused lean fingers at his face and it's not what you expect to see. You expect hard eyes and a hard look and possibly a sneer. None of those things are there.

Instead his mouth is partially agape, and his eyes are wide and soft blue and watery. He's looking at you, but he seems lost somehow in memory and thought. And the memory appears to hurt him.

You reach up and place a hand softly against his cheek.

'Sir?' You ask. And you ask a lot of questions with that one word. What's wrong? Are you in pain? Did I hurt you somehow? How can I make it better?

He shakes out of his reverie and the grey eyes and hard look returns. He pulls your hand away from his face and then looks away from you and towards the doorway.

'Satisfied Morgan?' He says with an irritated tone.

You look over with surprise and see Morgan leaning against the doorway wrapped in a white towel. Her blue hair hangs limply and she's shorter now that she's removed the striped stockings and ridiculously high heels.

'I'm getting there.' She drawls at Padraic with a grin.

Padraic makes an irritated sound, like a growl mixed with a mutter.

'And what would 'get you there'?' He responds finally with no small amount of aggravation.

'Can I talk to her Paddy?' She asks with a sly grin.

You can feel his jaw clench as she uses that abbreviation of his name. Clearly he does not prefer the nickname.

'Sure Morg. Ask her some questions. Go ahead.'

Morgan ignores the pointed taunt.

'Ari. What the fuck are you doing?'

You're a little flabbergasted by the brutal bluntness of her question. You stammer something unintelligible, but it doesn't matter. She just lobs another question at you.

'Aren't you married?'

'Yes.' You hedge in a tiny voice.

'Does your husband know you are here?'

'No.' Your voice shrinks to a barely audible tone and you feel intensely ashamed for a moment admitting that.

'So... I guess it comes back to my first question. What in the fuck are you doing?'

You stare at her for a minute. Angry that she's ripping through the little wall you've built to separate yourself from this. But abruptly, it just stops bothering you. You're doing what you need to do. You were going crazy trying to live your life and deny these urges. You're just glad you stumbled across Padraic and his intensely cautious and yet absurdly vicious style of play.

'I'm dealing with my... stuff. I guess.' You finally say to her.

She shakes her head. Clearly she's not satisfied. She starts to speak again but you suddenly cut her off.