A Controlled Descent Ch. 05

I just want to make him proud of me. "I can do it."

"Chin up. Face forward," he commands. "And hold still. I know it's scary, but it's important. If you flinch, I might miss and catch your ear. It's a good way to pop an eardrum. Can you be brave for me?"

"Yes, Jack."

I lift my chin and stare straight ahead, fixing my eyes on the bookshelf over his shoulder. He holds his open hand up, so it's in my line of sight. "Ask."

"Please slap me again."

He does, and I swear he catches me in the exact same spot. I know how messed up it sounds, but that makes me feel safe. He's so in control, and in that moment I believe in him. He'll never hurt me except the way he means. There'll be no accidents. No thoughtless pain. Everything will be measured and purposeful. My face really hurts, but I raise my chin and stare straight ahead.

"Good girl," he says and goes to stand.

"Please slap me again," I hear myself say and don't know which of us is the more surprised.

He lowers himself back onto one knee and studies my face. "Look at me."

My eyes find his, but my head doesn't move.

"Tell me why," he says.

"I just want you to."

"Are you trying to make a point? Is that why? I already know you're tough. You don't have to prove it to me."

"No, that's not it."

"Then why?"

"I just like it. And I need you to do it again."

"Need?" he asks.

I hadn't intentionally changed verbs, but it's true and I'm glad I did. "Need."

He cocks his head at me. "Goddamn."

"What?" I ask, worried I've said the wrong thing.

"I can't believe I finally found you," he says and slaps me so hard I see stars.

I want to ask him what that means, but it takes all my focus just to raise my chin again. My woozy brain is a hazy mix of fear, arousal, pain, and giddiness. I feel weirdly euphoric. He reaches under the chair and casually flicks on the Hitachi. It's like shooting a thousand volts through me. My back arches against the ropes. I make a grinding, startled noise in my throat. He reaches out and combs the stray hairs that has fallen into my face.

"You're beautiful," he says. "Don't go anywhere."

"Good girl." He stands and disappears behind me. I hear him moving around the kitchen but only briefly. The Hitachi humming against my panties quickly drowns out my other senses. My ability to think clearly begins to short circuit. The world shrinks, reduced to my breathing and the constant, powerful intrusion of the Hitachi. It didn't occur to me until now that when I use a vibrator on myself, I tease myself and take breaks to manage the intensity. Jack's ropes have taken that control away. It's just me and the Hitachi now, and I have nowhere to hide.

Time passes. Minutes or hours, I can't say.

My back breaks out in sweat.

I think I might need to cum. No, scratch that, I really need it. Fuck. I call out to him, but he doesn't answer no matter how many times I say his name. I try to back my hips off the vibrator, but he's too good at his craft.

"Jack?" I whimper and suddenly I feel his breath on my ear.

"Yes, slut?"

"I think I could cum."

"You think?"

"I can. I know I can," I say, expecting him to be pleased.

He is not. "So?"

"Can I?"

"No, fuck that."

"Why not?" I whine like a toddler accustomed to getting her own way.

"I gave you permission to masturbate and cum all week. And did you?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I just couldn't."

"Bullshit. Why couldn't you cum? Was there something physically wrong with you?"

"No."

"Then what was it, Mackenzie."

My head drops to my chest, and I clench my teeth trying to hold my orgasm at bay. I don't want to know how hard Jack will slap me if I slip and accidentally cum. "Please, please, please."

"Why couldn't you cum?" he asks patiently.

"Because I'm bad. I don't deserve it."

"What's bad about you?"

"I'm disgusting. I'm a disgusting whore."

"Says who?"

I don't want to say. "They do."

"Who's they?"

"Everyone. I'm a disappointment. I always have been." I can't even describe the place I'm in. My face hurts, my pussy is on tilt, and tears are streaming down my face. "I wasn't supposed to be this way."

He looks at me with sad, compassionate eyes. "You're anything but a disappointment."

I look at him hopefully. "So can I cum?"

"No," he says curtly.

"Please..." I wail.

"No, you've squandered that privilege. If you don't believe you deserve to cum then who am I to disagree. From now on, no more cuming. I'm not tying you to a chair every time you need to get off. It's too much work."

"Please, Jack. Please?"

"No." A pair of medical shears appear in his hand and with two expert snips, he cuts through my panties at both hips. In horror, I realize a moment beforehand what he means to do. Reaching between the slats, he takes hold of my panties from behind and yanks them off. The vibrator settles, unobstructed, onto my aching clit. I throw my head back and scream.

"Tell me you deserve to cum," he says.

"I don't."

"Tell me, or this goes on all night."

I shake my head stubbornly. With a sigh, he gets up and goes to the stairs.

"Where are you going?"

"To bed. You clearly don't need me."

"I do," I plead.

"There's a voice in your head. It's not yours, and it's definitely not mine. So, you can sit down here in the dark and do what it says since it means so much to you." He flips off the lights and starts up the stairs.

I'm plunged into darkness.

"I deserve to cum." I don't believe it, but I'm so scared of Jack leaving that I'll say anything.

"Whose voice is it?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Whose voice is it?"

"My father's." It's my closely guarded secret and saying it out loud feels like a betrayal and a liberation. A profound lightness fills me.

The living room lights come back on. Jack is staring at me. "Fuck your father. Say it."

It's like a blasphemy on my lips. "Fuck you, Dad."

"Again," Jack says, coming towards me now.

"Fuck you, Dad."

"Again."

In my mind's eye, I can see the profound disappointment and embarrassment that freezes across my father's face anytime he sees me.

"Fuck you, Dad!" I snarl.

"Tell me you deserve to cum. Mean it this time."

"I fucking deserve it."

"Then do it."

I wrench forward in the chair, driving myself into the vibrator. The ropes bite into my skin. I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Then I'm cuming and crying and screaming, and it is glorious. Everything I am, everything I feel, pouring out of me. I collapse back against the chair, shattered. When my eyes flicker open, Jack is kneeling beside me, holding my hand.

"Good girl. I'm so, so proud of you."

The vibrator is still on my clit. Orgasm over, it's starting to hurt. I ask Jack to turn it off.

"No," he says although there's gentleness in his voice.

"It hurts."

"I know, but it will pass. Look at me."

I do.

"You can do this," he says and squeezes my hand. "Just look at me."

I nod and grit my teeth. Gradually, the pain from the vibrator subsides and then it starts to feel good again. Really fucking good. My hips start to move.

"Who is in charge here? Your father?"

"No."

"Who then?"

"Jack is in charge," I mumble.

"I'm going to count down from ten. When I get to one, you will cum. Understood."

I don't think I can, but I say yes. He starts, slowly, like a countdown to a launch: Ten...Nine...Eight...Seven.... Something shifts in my brain, and I know in that instant that I can and will cum. Six...Five...Four.... Now I need him to hurry up, afraid that I won't make it to one. Three...Two...

"Whose?" he asks.

"Yours," I say. "Please."

He squeezes my hand again. "One."

I cum again, hard and fast like a plane crash. The pain comes again. Again he ignores my pleas. The countdown. I cum like clockwork. The pain then the pleasure. He keeps going and going. In time, the pain stops, and now I'm just cuming over and over. The house could be on fire, and I wouldn't know anything about it. When finally he turns off the vibrator, I slump forward against the ropes. I've run half-marathons. It's that kind of exhaustion.

Jack unties me and lifts me into his arms. My legs are jelly. He carries me upstairs and props me on a stone bench in his enormous shower. A bed would fit in here, I think randomly to myself. It's the first semi-coherent thought I've had. He runs the water, and the room fills with steam. When did he take off his clothes, I wonder. He helps me to my feet and together we stand under the hot water a long, long time. It feels so good.

Afterwards, he towels me off and helps me into bed. I reach for his cock, but he brushes my hand away.

"Sleep now," he says.

I want to argue, but I'm already passing out.

In the middle of the night, I wake from a bad dream and for a moment don't know where I am. I feel the old panic that I've let myself fall asleep in a strange man's bed. It's a rookie mistake that I always hate making. But then I remember where I am and who it is sleeping next to me. Jack. It's Jack. Everything's alright. I don't need to sneak out of here. This is where I belong.

I do need to pee though. Slipping out of bed, I pad silently into the bathroom and almost fall asleep on the toilet. Afterwards I look at myself in the mirror. My body is crosshatched with rope marks like a roadmap to somewhere I've never been. I think it looks pretty. The marks at my wrists and ankles, where I struggled hardest, are particularly livid. I touch them and enjoy the way they hurt. It makes me wet all over again, and I wonder what that means.

Climbing back into bed, I try to get settled as quietly as possible, but Jack rolls towards me.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Just needed the bathroom."

"Good," he says and pauses. "Ten...Nine..."

My mind locks in panic. The moment's passed. I'm not in the chair. There's no vibrator. "No, I can't."

"Shhh, be a good girl. Listen to my voice."

In a panic, my fingers search down my stomach and touch myself. My pussy is sore and sensitive from the abuse it took earlier, but when I touch my clit it comes alive. I exhale.

"Eight...," he continues.

I rub furiously, remembering back to seventh grade. From the very beginning, my sex drive has been a monster. I had to masturbate in the girls bathroom between classes just to have a prayer of focusing through a whole period. It had been so mercenary and quick. Girls in the stalls on either side, kids talking loudly at the sinks. It didn't matter. I could've cum during a parade in those days. What changed?

"Seven..."

I want it to be like that again.

"Six..."

I want to cum for Jack.

"Five..."

Whenever he wants.

"Four..."

I will.

"Three..."

I will.

"Two..."

I will.

"One..."

For him.

"Cum."

I do. It's not earthshattering, not like downstairs, but given I was half-asleep thirty seconds ago, it's kind of a miracle. I groan happily as it washes over me and then lay there breathing heavily.

"Good girl," Jack says and pulls me to him, turning me onto my side.

For a moment, I think he's going to fuck me. I'm sleepy, but he can do anything he wants to me. That's our deal. Instead, his arms go around me and hold me. I nestle up against him, a happy little spoon.

"Whose?" he asks and kisses my neck.

"Yours."

"Damn right. Now sleep."

I do.