After the Conference Ch. 02

The food was delicious, and she was hungry. He picked up the tab – "it's the least I could do, given how badly I treated you last night," and they started their trip back.

"It's not that tough on the return," he continued his patter. "We'll take this street and then it gently rises up until the last few blocks where it gets steep."

She wasn't paying attention, thinking about how weird the last 12 hours had been.

He was right. The route back was a lot easier, and she was thankful given how much she'd eaten. Unlike the ride over, outside the valley brought less wind and a lot more sun. In spite of it being an easier ride, it was hotter. A lot hotter.

They were taking it slower, and she was drenched in sweat. Looking down she saw a dark triangle on her shirt, her breasts now completely outlined by the wet fabric. She swore to herself. How could she have forgotten her bra? The street had widened, become more commercial, filled with strip malls and empty lots. It was looking a little sketchy.

"Do you need to stop?" He slowed down next to her.

"No. I'm fine. Hot, but fine. Do you?" She thought maybe he was flagging.

"I, uh, yeah, actually. I could use something to drink." He pulled into a driveway for a convenience store. "You want anything?"

She shook her head and stood with the bikes while he went in. She felt completely exposed. Passing cars were honking and she realized they were honking at her. She turned away from the street, but she knew her ass was just as exposed as her breasts had been.

"Hey, sweety."

She turned to see a grisly face breathing down her neck. His breath slammed into her – a smell like rotting food - and tried to back away, but his hand had reached up under her shirt. In stepping away, he pulled it up, exposing both breasts to road. Without thinking she brought her foot up to his crotch as she brought her arms down onto his shoulders. He crumpled, just as the bikes fell over, but she couldn't cover herself, her breasts providing a shelf for her shirt.

She swore at him and kicked savagely at his gut. He grunted and tried to turn away, but she wouldn't let him off that easy, kicking into him again and again, cursing and shouting. When she felt hands on her shoulder she turned to kick her new assailant, only to see Roland. He grabbed her and held her, asking if she was okay, looking to see if the guy was going to get up.

Her top was still up and she tried to pull her hands away so she could fix it, but he held her. She started screaming at him to let her go until he finally understood and backed away.

"You're okay. You're okay, Madeleine. Let's get out of here. C'mon! Let's go."

She hopped onto her pedals and pumped away, speeding out of the lot and up the street toward the ridge. She could see it in the distance, wishing she was anywhere but here. He caught up with her, swigging a bottle of Gatorade, his face bright with adrenaline.

"What the fuck happened back there?" He shouted, his voice belying his stress.

"Fuck if I know! What the fuck, Roland?! What the fuck was that?" She pumped harder to pull ahead, her anger and fear driving her harder. She could feel the sweat pouring down her sides; her shirt and shorts were stuck to her. As cars passed she could see people staring at her – it was worse than if she had no clothes on – the tease of her nakedness turned heads and made them stare. "Is there a less trafficky road?" She looked up intersections in a growing panic.

"This is the fastest way, Madeleine. It is only about 20 minutes more and it settles down in about a mile."

She swore and kept her pace, noting the incline was getting steeper. While that was a welcome sign they were getting closer, she couldn't keep the pace up, feeling a cramp beginning in her stomach.

"It's okay, Madeleine. You're okay. I'm sorry that happened. I called the cops and told them we were heading up to my place if they needed to talk to us."

She just shook her head and focused on pumping as best she could. It was turning out to be a completely shitty day. All she wanted was to sink into a nice, hot bath after washing the sweat and grime off her body. The thought of sitting alone in her tub with a glass of wine kept her going, standing up to help work off the cramp and keep her pace up.

They finally pulled into his driveway, and then as the garage door opened, deposited the bikes inside. She didn't say anything, waiting in stony silence while he put the bikes away and opened the door. She walked quickly to get her things and met him outside the door.

"I want to go back to my hotel now, please." She held her gym bag and clothes, vibrating with suppressed anger.

"Okay," he said, looking unhappy. "Let me get my keys."

It was the first time she'd had a chance to see his face since the restaurant and she felt awful. It wasn't his fault, was it? She thought he was saying something, but she couldn't quite hear him. Instead, she just felt tired, sad and disappointed that the day had turned out so awful.

"Would you like to get cleaned up here?" He asked, hopefully.

She shook her head, unable to speak her mind. Neither her tiny voice or the majority vote were speaking – the quiet was actually a relief – but she had been so looking forward to just stripping out of her wet clothes and soaking in a tub, drinking a little wine and enjoying a nice dinner alone. On the other hand, he had been great company at breakfast, and at dinner when she thought about it, and nothing in the past hour had been his fault. He'd just stopped at a store to get some hydration – and he hadn't left her more than five minutes, in broad daylight on a well trafficked street.

She shook her head again, but this time to clear the swirling thoughts.

"You sure?" He touched her elbow again, bringing her back.

She looked at his face to read any sense of judgment and looked down, confused. She had let go of her gym bag and clothes, but more alarmingly, she found herself standing naked again. It's not possible? Of course it's possible! You fucking whore. NO! How could I have just stripped like that? A very tiny voice murmured that it felt so much better not to have her wet clothes on. She felt the panic rising again, convinced she must be suffering a psychotic break or a stroke or something.

"I...I just want to go back..." She bent to pick up her clothes and stopped, exhausted.

"Let me show you the shower...and you can soak in the hot tub afterward if you'd like. I can open a bottle of Riesling..."

She stood up, exposing herself to him. The tiny voice was asking what the harm would be. Thankfully the majority wasn't talking. She just wanted to sit and soak. She nodded and followed him down the hall, into his bedroom to the master bathroom. Of course you're following him into his bedroom. Just like the slut you are! She was too tired to fight the demons in her head.

The bathroom was amazing – a stone grotto. "Apparently it's a miniature version of what's in the other house," he was saying. She just felt so exhausted and so dispirited, she barely noticed the extravagance of the shower. As the water hit her head, the hot spray against her skin, she let the heat soak into her muscles, feeling the endorphins flooding her brain. She barely noticed he was with her, soaping her skin, his fingers sending sparks into her skin.

"What's...what's going on?" She asked confused. What was happening to her? Was he really as kind as he appeared? Why was she doing this? Because you're a slut, and you are going to beg him to fuck you. Just wait. She moaned as his fingers rubbed against her nipples, down her stomach to lather up her pubic triangle. "No," she pushed her hands against his, but she didn't mean it. And he didn't pay attention. She could hear him saying something, and she sighed, imagining how sweet it would feel to have him inside her again.

His lips were against her ear again, his cock rubbing next to her thigh and she moaned. This couldn't be happening! She needed it to stop! But you won't stop it, will you? No, you're going to kneel down and take him in your mouth again like the whore you are.

"Tell me," he whispered again, the words he'd used the night before. "Tell me what you're going to do." His hands, slippery and quick moved between her legs, rubbing her, mixing the soap with her own slipperiness.

She moaned and knelt, the water pelting on her head, spilling down his front. She opened her mouth and guided his stiffening cock into it, her hands cupping his ball sac, feeling those tender eggs moving as she pulled him into her, as deeply into her throat as her position could manage.

She felt his hands on her head, lightly guiding her, letting her set the pace. "You are such a fantastic cock sucker. Where did you learn to do that?"

She froze for a heartbeat at hearing the crude words, and then took him deeper, rising up to open her throat. She'd show him how good she could be. The stone was digging into her knees but she didn't care, she would suck him dry. She could feel him swelling and knew he was close. Moving her fingers between his legs, she stroked his asshole and was rewarded by his holding her head, convulsing and spasming. She could taste his seed against her tongue; she swallowed and gagged, milking him for as long as she could.

She could feel him shrinking, his heartbeat pulsing through his cock against her tongue, and then he pulled out and stepped away, leaving her kneeling in the water raining down. She stayed on her knees, staring at her nakedness and cried. How did she end up this way? Why was she doing this?

The water stopped and he wrapped a towel around her. "C'mon. You look like you could use that hot tub...and that wine." Leading her out of the shower, he dried her off, his voice saying words she couldn't make out, but she felt more relaxed. He led her through his bedroom to a glass door facing the ridge and the part of the house that moved up the hill.

The courtyard had several tables and chairs arranged around a half-sunken wooden Japanese soaking tub. She could see vapors escaping around the insulating top. The thought of sinking into a tub of hot water triggered another dose of calming brain chemicals.

She watched him, naked, taking off the top and moving to the steps, holding his hand out, beckoning her to follow him. As she passed by him, she felt his hands drift onto her ass, stroking her, moving up between her shoulders, until she descended, surrendering to the heat moving up her legs, across her pubis until the bottoms of her breasts barely touched the surface of the water.

From this position, he towered over her – he hadn't joined her, remaining at the steps – his cock just above her hairline. She glimpsed something in his face for a moment, a look of dominance, but it was so fleeting she couldn't know if it was her imagination.

"I'll get you that wine," he said, turning back to the house.

The water was luxurious, hot, penetrating and forcing her muscles to relax. She was sitting on a step, her feet not touching the floor. Looking through the dark water into the wooden tub, she pushed off tentatively. Standing, the water came up to her chin, covering her breasts, back and shoulders. It was delicious, draining the panic and violation from earlier. You see? You're behaving just like the slut he thinks you are. She was too relaxed and tired to argue.

He returned with two glasses, placing them on a shelf across the tub from her. She watched him, his cock swinging as he ascended the steps and then entered the tub. "You feeling better?" He smiled, his hands reaching across to rub her shoulders.

"Mmmm, hmmm," she murmured, reaching for a glass, feeling his fingers digging into her muscles. "That feels nice. Keep doing that." She took a sip, the bite of the alcohol balanced by the sweet/tart of the fruit. She closed her eyes, feeling his hands moving her muscles, then moving down below the water to her breasts.

"Fuck," she whispered, cracking her lids enough to put the glass back down and drifting back to the step; his hands never lost contact with her, his fingers transmitting a yellow glow through her upper body. She sat back; she could stay this way forever, she thought, her demons quiet. She sighed.

"That was really fucked, back there," his voice said softly in her ear. "I'm sorry." His hands kept massaging, even as he moved them lower, opening her legs.

She leaned back and let him do whatever he was going to do. It didn't matter. The sun was shining on her, she was relaxed, she was safe, and he owed her anyway. Moments later his fingers had entered her, his thumb pushing up against her clit, his fingers finding that spot deep inside her, and he held her there, moving her up, up, up until she almost peaked.

"Tell me..." He whispered again.

She moaned, pushing her hips against his hand, opening her mouth. Now's the time, slut. Now's the time to beg him. To tell him what you need. What you'll do for him if only...

"I..ahhggh...I...fuck...fuck...please...please...oh fuck..." She couldn't say whatever it was she needed. She was so close and he was just teasing her, holding still, waiting. She could feel his cock stiffening against her knee; she wanted it inside her again; she just wanted to cum, to let go of the tension that had been building since she'd woken up.

"Tell me..." No malice, no urgency, but he kept her on the edge, moving in time with her thrusts, staying in synch.

"Please," she begged, "please release me. Push your fingers deeper...harder...yesss, yeesssss.....FUCK, FUCK FUCK." She let her head fall back against the tub and gave into his fingers, pushing her over the edge, falling and rising on the waves of her climax.

They stayed together that way until she could breathe again, her hands reaching around his waist, feeling his warm skin. She looked up to see him smiling kindly down at her and she sighed.

"We shouldn't spend much more time in here," he said after they'd almost finished their wine. "Not good with alcohol."

She followed him out, accepting the towel he proffered to her, while he grabbed the glasses. In spite of feeling as strong as a cooked noodle, she turned to the top to replace it.

"S'okay," he said, noticing what she was doing. "It can stay off for awhile."

"Too late," she said, and her voice sounded a little slurred. Maybe he was right about alcohol and hot tubs.

As they walked to the kitchen, he naked, her with the towel around her shoulders, she was flooded with a sensuality she hadn't felt in...ever. She looked up at him and gave a shy smile, any feelings of anxiety replaced with a sense of ease.

"What the fuck are you doing to me?" She stared at his gorgeous naked body while they sipped wine in their refilled glasses. "What are you doing to me?" She had lost the towel, her feet were up on the table, her legs spread for him to look at her. "Why am I doing this?"

He just smiled and shook his head, as if he didn't have any better answer than she did. His cock was stirring, she saw, and she licked her lips, thinking she wanted it again.

"I'm having some friends over tonight. Would you like to meet some natives?" His hand lightly stroked her skin, sending jolts up and down her arms, her legs. She could feel herself getting even wetter.

"Mmm hmmm," she said lazily, her eyes closing, realizing what he was implying and what she would likely be in for. Or more accurately, what was likely going to be in her.