Beyond Limits Ch. 02

"Is he always so rough?"

'Who? Cormac?" She smiled at me. "He doesn't pull any punches, does he? But it's good. I like being talked to directly like that. He doesn't let me slide. He demands I give him one hundred and ten percent. He's tremendously gifted. Brilliant. You should see him when he really gets going."

I stopped. We were on the steps of the theater building and it was snowing, a nasty, sleety, Upper Peninsula snow from angry Superior. "Lexi! He insulted you! He insulted me. He wasn't criticizing your acting, he was criticizing you as a woman."

"Oh, you're over-reacting. That's just what he does to get a reaction. That's part of his technique. He told us that the first day, that he's going to get into our heads and find out what we want and he's going to be it, and he's going to pull our talent out of us. That's what he's doing. Now come on..."

She'd walked down to the base of the stairs and reached out her hand to me.

"Come on, don't you want to eat? Or do you want to do something else?"

I looked at her. The cold had brought dusky color to her cheeks in the streetlight and the snow was sparkling on her black hair and lashes. She looked magical, enchanted. Her eyes were sparkling.

The fucker had made her hot. He'd gotten her aroused. I was furious. But even then the significance didn't occur to me.

I turned up the collar on my coat. "Let's go home."

"Good!" she laughed.

I didn't wait till we got home. I started the car then grabbed her and kissed her possessively, thrusting my tongue down her throat. I tore her coat open and felt inside for her breast, warm and giving against the sere cold of the winter and she moaned and reached for my cock and I was instantly on fire. I was losing her! I didn't what was happening but I knew it. Losing her because I loved her so much she made me weak. I shoved the wheel away from me and slid my seat back and grabbed her by the hair in desperation and pushed her head down in my lap to take my fucking cock, in the tangle of scarves and coats and winter clothing.

It was cold in the car and her breath steamed and my cock steamed when it hit the frosty air and then her mouth was on me and it was like sticking my prick in hot water, all her heat for me, and I groaned. I thrust up into her and I wanted to piss in her mouth like a dog pisses on his territory to mark it and own it. I shoved up hard into her throat and she gave a strangled cry of surprise, telling me not to be so rough because it wasn't roughness she wanted but that feeling of easy mastery. I knew that. She needed to be taken by someone who could walk away from her and treat her like dirt and I, goddamn it, I wasn't that man.

"Baby, baby!" she laughed nervously, licking the saliva off her lip. "What's got into you?"

I shoved my dick inside my pants and zipped up, pulled out of the space and headed for home. My car was a stick shift and I needed both hands to drive, but I grabbed her hand and put it on my cock and she laughed.

It was only November but the streets looked like Christmas. It does nothing but snow up there once October ends, white falling on white, and the world was like a white-humped mystery. We were like two warm berries in that car, driving through that wilderness of angry, impatient snow, and soon we pulled up outside of my place and I got her inside and attacked her on the stairs. I can still remember what she felt like, the heat of her body through the layers of cold clothing, my hands skinning her like knives removing the pelt of an animal I'd killed, and she came out naked and feverish and soft and all over me. The place was hot. It was an ancient gingerbread mansion cut into apartments and it had steam heat that I could never adjust, the radiators clanging and hissing all night. I got Lexi up into the bedroom and threw her down on the bed, got my clothes off and climbed onto her chest and let my cock fall against her lips.

"Don't touch it!" I said, grabbing her wrists and pressing them down into the pillow on either side of her head. "Don't fucking touch it! Just open your mouth! Keep it open and don't even suck or move your lips or tongue, understand? You're dead meat, Lexi, road kill. I don't want you to move!"

"Russell..."

"Just do as I say for once, damn it!"

I wasn't going to argue. I just wouldn't fuck her if she didn't do as I said. I was tired of this, tired of being jerked around. I needed this from her tonight. She'd been touched by another man right in front of me and she hadn't objected, hadn't resisted and I needed to take her back. I didn't know this at the time, that that's the way I was feeling. I was burning with jealousy and possessiveness.

For once she listened. She didn't start whining or objecting. She lay there with her mouth open in a tense 'O', her lipstick still smeared from where I'd fucked her mouth in the car, and I sat on her tits, my weight on my knees. My prick was hard and so swollen it was shining like a balloon stretched tight, teetering over the cavern of her mouth, a fat drop of pre-cum gathered at the tip and glistening in the light from the snow-streaked streetlamp outside the window. I was breathing heavy, hypnotized by the sight of her. She tried to free her arms but I held her there. Her strength was no match for mine. Her jeans and boots were off but she still wore her shirt and bra and panties, though the shirt was half unbuttoned and her bra straps were down. She looked a mess, like she was getting raped.

I had her. I finally fucking had her where I wanted her.

I pressed my cock down till the velvety head made contact with her lips. She twitched and I snatched it away.

"I said don't move!"

"Russell—!"

"I meant it! I want to see how good your control is, Lexi. I've got the whip right over in the drawer. You move and I swear I'll lash that clit till she howls for mercy. Worse— You move and you don't get any of this, understand?" I smacked her on the cheek with the heavy head of my dick. "You're my whore now, Lexi. You do as I say."

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes, but she left her mouth open for me. I looked at that face and saw her onstage again being slapped by Cormac Grehen's words and I felt chills. She was a whore for me. A slut, a tramp, just waiting to get fucked.

"I'm the one who wrote that fucking play, you know that? I made up those characters and the words they say and the things they feel, and without me neither you nor Mr. Grehen nor any of the other people down there would have a damned thing to do all term but sit there and stare at each other's blank goddamn faces.I wrote that play! I gave it fucking life!"

I pushed my prick down toward her lips again. Her mouth opened slightly and her lips trembled like flower petals. I touched the drop of pre-cum to the side of her upper lip and withdrew so it left a slim strand of viscous fluid that connected her mouth to the head of my cock, a gossamer thread of such obscene and degrading beauty that I felt the orgasmic spasms start in my prostate and I thought of letting go and belching my semen all over her impeccably beautiful face right then and there, painting her eyes and nose and mouth with webs of my dirty squirming ejaculate, my lewd eructations of testicular exudate. But I held it. I resisted. I squeezed my asscheeks together and fought it off. It was worth it just to watch her struggling to maintain her composure, to watch her fighting to keep her lips from closing around my cockhead, to keep from reaching for it with her mouth. She made this funny quavering sound in her throat, like a choked gargling noise. Her lips were quivering.

"Good girl," I said, letting go of her wrist to brush her hair out of her face. She was warm and perspiring. "Very good girl."

At that moment I felt another drop of pre-cum slither down my urethra and I squeezed, hard enough to make it dribble from my slit and fall on her teeth, thick and glistening, and at this she gave a loud moan and her body heaved beneath me in an involuntary spasm as she realized what a whore she must look like, what an absolute irredeemable cum-sucking slut she must appear as I dribbled my jizz into her open mouth like rain into a sewer.

"Russell! Russell!"

"Don't swallow it!" I hissed.

I reached into her mouth with my little finger and scooped up what I could and wiped it on her lips and on her eyelids and cheeks, leaving gleaming trails of this degrading war paint on her face. I put my finger back in her mouth.

"Now suck."

Behind me I felt her raise her legs and clamp them together hard to put some pressure on her clit as she sucked hungrily at my pinky, her little tongue circling feverishly, her teeth nipping at me. She started to raise her hands and I slapped her face with my prick. It landed against her hollow cheek with a dull thud.

"Uh, uh, uh!" I chided. "I said suck, I didn't say move!"

"Russell, no! I won't do this! Let me up!"

I grabbed her hair now—hard—and held her head off the pillow. She gasped, closed her eyes, and I slid my hips slowly forward, piercing the 'O' of her lips with the head of my dick, distending her mouth and making her gasp in surprise. Immediately she started to suck and immediately I pulled out of her.

"No, honey! No! What did I say? No sucking, no moving. You're mine to use, and if you want to be used, you do what I say!"

"Russell, I told you, I can't! This is crazy!"

"Lexi, I'm not kidding!"

And I wasn't. I didn't need her permission for this. It was there to take; she was there to give. I was fed up with fucking around. I needed this from her, needed it so much I was willing to do without her altogether rather than go any longer without it. I was willing to get up, put on my pants and walk out the fucking door if she refused me, and she knew it and it frightened her.

I got up on my knees so my balls were hanging over her mouth. "Take hold of your nipples. Do it."

I didn't yell, didn't command. I said it in a very reasonable voice. She looked up at me, gauging my resolve, my seriousness. Lexi didn't touch herself for me normally. She was really a very reserved girl when she wasn't on stage, but now she slipped her hands under my ass and put them over her breasts and I could feel them.

I stayed on my knees, my cock aimed at her mouth. "Open your mouth again, darling, but open it wide. I don't want you to even touch me with your lips or tongue. No sucking, no moving, no touching, and this time I want you to twist your nipples. Squeeze them. Show me what a whore you are for me, Lexi. Show me what a slut you are, how hot you can be and how you can control your animal urges, darling. I know you're not a sub; you tell me all the time, so show me how well you control yourself. Show me how you resist temptation."

For a moment she did nothing, then I felt her fingers moving, working at her nipples. I saw it in her face, saw her resistance fading. She was doing it, but out of anger, out of spite. Or maybe this was what she'd been waiting for, to just be taken control of and ordered to do it.

I put my finger under her nose and pushed, tilting her head back casually as if she were no more than a bread box, held my cock with my other hand and slid it into her mouth.

"Keep it open, bitch! Keep it open!"

I fucked her mouth. Fucked it, rocking on my knees—slowly, with excruciating slowness—sliding it in and out, in and out, and though she tried to keep her mouth opened wide, the fact that she had to keep her lips over her teeth limited the size she could manage and guaranteed that the velvety walls of my prick brushed against her sensitive lips time and again and jarred her into reflexive sucking motions whereupon I had to grab her hair and pull her off and slap her face with my stiff and dripping tool. It felt like it weighed a ton, like it was three feet long and made out of lead and when hit her it made a dull sound and left a wet smear on her cheek.

In the end she was nearly hysterical with wanting it, and her hands had gone from her tits to her pussy and she was masturbating. I let her for a while, then I made her stop.

"No! Don't touch yourself!" I slapped her hands away and pulled her panties off. "Get away. Open your legs and don't move."

"Oh baby, please! Please fuck me, Russell! Please! Why are you doing this to me?"

I climbed between her legs and I didn't know if I'd make it. It was like the first night months ago when I got inside her and stroked three times and came all over her. I was just on fire. I was full of myself, full of a sense of masculine power, full of a feeling of my own success, as an author, a human being, a man. It was power and strength and lust and sexual heat. The way she'd been crippling me was gone. The sorrow and helplessness I'd felt for myself was gone, was gone. The jealousy over Cormac was gone. There was this woman I was madly in love with and I had her eating out of my hand, begging me for my prick and what more can any man ever want out of life? I was on top of the world. I was holy, sacred, saved.

I made her open her legs and I laid my cock against her pussy so that the bottom of my dick slid along her clit and I began to stroke her like that, frictioning her, rocking in the cradle of her legs, making her shudder and gasp and claw at my back and my ass. She was soaked, her whole lower belly was wet with her whorish discharge and she spasmed and jerked every time I touched her. I was her god-damned master and she hated it. I think she hated me too, because finally, when she couldn't stand it anymore, I put the head of my cock at the mouth of her pussy and grabbed her arms and I could just feel the love and hatred inside her.

"Now freeze," I said. "Don't move. Squeeze me with your cunt and make me come, baby. Make me come just by squeezing me, understand? Come all over my cock, you beautiful whore!"

"Russell, God!" She lurched up, trying to capture me, snapping her hips up at me and trying to envelop me in her juicy sheath. Her pussy was sopping wet and swollen but I was on my knees and feverish with power and I pulled away before she could take me.

"Don't!" I said. "Don't do that! I'm warning you Lexi!. I want you to hold still and make me come by squeezing me."

"Fuck you, God damn it! Fuck you!" She was almost hysterical and she grabbed my ass and tried to pull me into her.

I pulled away again but now it was too much for me. Just moving my hips had taken me to the critical point and I was there, I was fucking there.

I plunged into her, pulled her to me,. shoved my tongue in her mouth and she grunted in surprise and immediately shoved her cunt back up at me, delicious, her labia peeled back, naked pussy grabbing me deep, and that was it. I was coming, shooting, the come pouring out of me like water through a dam spillway—thick, heavy gouts of semen shooting into her, nailing her, planking her—exquisite, deep relief like the tolling of a great, profound bell in my soul. I clung to her and shuddered, throwing myself away for her, squandering myself on the pleasure she gave me, drowning in a sea of Lexi, a victim of the flood but master of it too now.

I had her. I had her at last, all of her! Like the sun has the sky and the wind has the wheat I fucking had her, and I clung to her and rode her as I emptied myself into her, all this old, crumpled up Russell came out strong and grand and powerful, magnificent inside her and she felt it too. She was mastered and she knew it and she opened to me like a great stunning flower, just shocking in her beauty, overwhelming; braced in a swan dive against the gravity of ecstasy. It was every bit as good as I knew it would be.

We came down together floating on a raft of bliss, one soul in two bodies, not speaking, the sweat was pouring off me. It felt so incredibly good. I thought we must be hot to the touch, like fired pots from the kiln. I got up reluctantly and staggered to the bathroom to get some water.

By the time I came back, she was dressed and already putting on her coat.

"Where the hell are you going?" I asked.

"Out."

"Out? It's snowing like a son of a bitch! Why? Where?"

"I need to think," she said. "That wasn't good, Russell. I told you, I don't like that. That wasn't good. I'm no one's sub."

* * * * *

Her father was an executive at Hendricks, the appliance manufacturer, a hard case, the kind who ate dinner in his tie and smoked a pipe and had special clothes for the weekend, which he spent reading the paper or hammering things into shape around their suburban home and ignoring her mother, whom he held in contempt. Her mother was a weak personality who took pills and drank some, and never recovered from the miscarriage of Lexi's older brother. Years later Lexi found out that after she was born her mother was hospitalized with post-partum depression so severe that doctors said she shouldn't conceive again, and that's the reason she was an only child. It wasn't because they loved her so much they didn't have any left over for another, which was what they'd told her.

These suburban houses contain such tales of American gothic tragedy, played out on linoleum floors and formica tables. Lexi remembered her mother's fears and joys and the day she discovered her mother was pitiable, what a shock that was. She'd learned it inadvertently from her father at a relative's house one Thanksgiving evening when someone asked him how June was "holding up" over the holidays so far and her father, more than a little drunk, answered, "About the usual." The bitterness in his voice. The contempt. She realized then that no, her mother didn't hold up very well at all and she vowed that she would never be like that, weak like that.

But she couldn't make an ally of her father because the best he gave was approval, not love, so she found a place where she could meet her mother halfway, where weakness didn't matter, far away from the places that her father would criticize or understand, in her mother's wet and sentimental love of movies and TV drama. Lexi became an actress and found she could be anyone she wanted—strong, weak, girly, boyish. As an only child, she had an army of make-believe friends.

Her father's strictness felt like love to her. She knew that about herself and she tried to guard against it. She might have fallen for domineering men but from her mother she'd inherited a real horror of becoming submissive and following orders. Besides, she was quite simply smart and talented. She knew what was going on in her own head and she had direction. Most of the time.

Her father died when she was in high school, and once the shock was over, he really wasn't missed. He left his family well-off. Lexi became a rebellious teenager but no more than usual. She had her sexual initiation, she became dedicated to theater. As a young woman, she was a charming mixture of brash assurance and nagging self-doubt, optimism and depression, and that's how she was when I met her. She was drawn to love like a junkie's drawn to the needle, for the rush it gave her, and because you never knew when a lover might be the one who'd save you.

She was sure she needed saving.

And I myself came out of a childhood of shadows where my mother ruled the roost. Dramatic, self-centered, sick and narcissistic, the family revolved around her and her problems, her fights with her sisters and brothers and mother. I never knew whether she'd be there for me, or whether she'd come to me for comfort, overwhelming me with her grief and need. What can a six year old do with a weeping woman's problems? My father worked and took on extra jobs to stay out of the house, my older sister and brother ignored her. I became her confidant, the one she'd come to in the night, the one she'd ignore during the day till I didn't know what she was to me other than unreliable and crazy, not to be trusted, a source of guilt and inadequacy, someone I could never heal or placate.