Carson Evolved Ch. 12

Oddly, while her praise of him made him proud, it also made him feel guilty. He'd felt like he was taking advantage of her initially, and then he'd gone ahead and blasted right through those concerns.

Addison was watching him, and she could see he was wrestling with something. It confused her; she thought he'd be happier to hear what she said.

"Addison, I feel like I should apologize to you," he began.

"Apologize? For what? Giving me the best sexual experience of my life? Carson, you have no idea of the things I want to do to you to say thanks."

He grinned sheepishly. "All that aside, I feel like I took advantage of you. I know you've been awake for a long time, and then you completed your work—thank you for that, by the way—and I should have made you get some rest. You were wired on stim spray and adrenaline, and I forced you to tell me something that was very, very personal. That was wrong of me." When he finished, he wiped his eye to keep the moisture gathering there from leaking out.

She just sat there in stunned silence. It actually hurt to see this wonderful man in pain. He has no reason to feel guilty. Why is he torturing himself like this? Tentatively, she reached out to lay her hand on his shoulder. "Carson?" she said softly.

His guilt-ridden eyes met hers and she melted a little more inside. "There is nothing for you to feel guilty about. Yes, I've been awake for some time. And yes, I was a little crazed there. But I have been fantasizing about you from almost the moment I met you. I was intimidated by you, but only because I feel like a leaf blowing in the wind when you're around. But you know what? When I dream at night, it's always about you. And every morning I lay in bed wondering if today will be the day that I finally tell you how I feel."

"Really?" he asked, searching her eyes. What he saw was warmth and affection, maybe a little awe, staring back at him. There was a hint of fear, too. She was obviously nervous about baring her soul like this.

Then she nodded and smiled at him. "I'll warn you though. I'm not going to be able to shake what you just did to me for quite a while. So, if you don't want me..." she said, now searching his eyes for reassurance and finding warmth and acceptance there. She took his hand once again and firmly kissed its back. "Everything that I said earlier stands. You can do pretty much anything with me, and I'll trust you to make it good for me." She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "I have a secret fantasy. Want to hear it?

Carson grinned at her. "Is it anything like what you described earlier?"

Addison blushed and wrung her hands nervously. "It's like that, but...I don't know if you understood exactly what I meant." She stopped, considering her next move carefully. "Wait here for a second." As Carson watched, she went and pulled something from her desk drawer.

She carried it back towards him with an almost-reverent gaze. As she got closer, he realized that it was collar similar to what you'd put on a dog. It was wide, looking to cover more than two fingers side by side. Made from heavily embossed leather that was stained a rich red, it was lined with a shimmering synthetic padding. The width was divided into three bands, with the two outer strips embossed in a diagonal basket-weave pattern; the direction of the diagonal was reversed between the two, resulting in a sort of herringbone look from farther away. The center strip was embossed with a running Celtic knot, bordered with thick gold stitching as a frame. The raised portions were painted gold, which shown nicely against the deep red background. All of the dark coloring made the silvery fittings stand out even more.

The shiny silver snap buckle had a curious hole in the center, through which Carson could see the end of the 'male' portion of the buckle. On each side of the collar was riveted a shiny pewter plate with the word 'Slave' ornately engraved, the words further contrasting with the black paint that filled the etching. There were three D-rings on the collar, brushed nickel finish. There were two on the back, one between each plate and the buckle. The third was directly opposite the buckle and would sit at the front of the neck. Hanging from that ring was a shiny silver oval pendant. In the middle was a thickly engraved, ornately scripted letter 'C.'

Addison watched Carson carefully as he looked over the collar. Did he understand what she wanted? No, what she needed from him? Could he accept her that way? She wasn't sure what she'd do if he rejected her. For weeks now she'd been dreaming of the day he'd lock this collar around her neck and take possession of her. If he refused? She shuddered to think about it.

Carson thought he understood where she was going with this. As usual, though, he withheld comment until she'd said her piece. She'd obviously put a lot of thought and effort into this, and he didn't want to sully the experience for her. So, he looked into her eyes and waited.

She gathered a deep breath and said, "This is my fantasy. When I said that I wanted you to 'own' me, I meant that you would own me completely. I sometimes stare at this collar for hours, thinking of all the things you make me do when I'm wearing it. I even put it on sometimes when I'm playing with my toys, so that I can pretend it's you that I'm with."

Her heart was suddenly in her throat when she saw Carson walk a few steps away in thought. He's going to make me leave! she panicked. He's disgusted with me! Tears began to form in her eyes. How could I have been so stupid? A man like Carson can have any woman he wants. Why would he want a disgusting little girl with almost no tits when he can fuck the women he lives with? Years of self-doubt brought on through the mistreatment and rejection by her parents began to creep to the surface.

Carson turned to ask her a question and saw the state that she was in. "Hey, hey, hey," he soothed as he stepped towards her. "What's going on?"

"You don't want me!" she wailed. "I don't blame you," she sniffed. "Your wives and lovers are so beautiful, and I'm just...me."

He pulled her into a hug, and she molded her body against his as she stroked her hair and murmured reassurances to calm her down. "Why do you think I don't want you, Addison?" He used her name to reinforce that he was talking to her, the real her.

"You walked away when I told you my fantasy. I figure you needed to think of a way to let me down gently. Just say what you have to say," she finished sadly.

Whatever else he felt for Addison Parks, he felt oddly protective of the woman. She was far more fragile than he'd have suspected. Even if he didn't know whether he could follow through with being her owner, she needed to know that he wasn't rejecting her for her desires. He reached down and swept her into his arms, her head naturally tucking into his chest and shoulder. He carried her to a nearby love seat and sat down with her in his lap, and she snuggled in closer.

Quietly, he began to speak. "Listen to me. You caught me off-guard, Addison, that's all. You're a special young woman, and I have a great deal of respect for you. But I've never been approached about being someone's owner before. I needed to think, but only to see if I could handle that. I love my wives, and I love the other women in my life, too. When we're together, it's just us. I try to give the woman I'm with whatever she needs. But it's always done out of love and respect.

"If I understand what you're asking correctly, this is also done out of love and respect. But the application of that love feels bad, in a way. Does that make sense?"

She sniffed but nodded in agreement.

"Can I ask you a question? Why do you want this?"

Addison chewed on her lip, hesitant to open a door that she'd worked hard to keep closed. Finally, she decided to take the leap. If Carson was the man that she believed him to be, she was at no risk. Gathering herself, she began to softly speak. "My parents were abusive, Carson. They drank a lot, and they did a lot of drugs. My dad would beat me for the littlest things, and my mom would just let him do it." The tears came, and she made no effort to stop them. "She'd come to me afterwards and say, 'You need to do better, you stupid girl. What man is ever going to want you if you can't follow directions?' I was 15 the last time she said that to me."

Carson gasped at this, his heart breaking for the girl she'd been and the woman she'd become.

"By the time I turned 16, I'd learned my lessons. Study hard, keep your head down, and follow the rules. That way, there's no reason to get punished. I was into computers by then, so I mostly just withdrew into my own little world; I don't think either of them cared much about that. I stayed out of their way and started making plans to leave. I was almost 17 when my father came home more messed up than I'd ever seen him. He could barely stand up when he broke into my room. He said, 'Imma tich y'slut haw tuh please a'man.' He started towards me, rubbing his junk through his pants, and I was pleading with him to leave me alone, to get out of my room. We were circling around the bed, but he managed to keep me from reaching the door.

"Finally, he tried to lunge at me. I managed to dodge him, and his momentum carried him straight into the wall. He hit face first and just sort of crumpled to the ground. I thought maybe he'd killed himself, but I could see that he was still breathing. I grabbed as much stuff as I could as quick as I could and left. I spent a year crashing on a friend's couch until I started making enough money computing to get my own place. I haven't looked back since."

"You haven't spoken to them at all?" he asked, gently. She shook her head. He cleared his throat and said, "It's up to you, but maybe we should let them at least know that you're alive. What do you think?"

Faintly he heard her reply: "Only if you're with me."

"I'll be right there with you. But I think you need some closure with them. It's obviously tearing you up inside. If I had the chance to spend more time with my folks..." He shook his head. He was embarrassed to realize that he hadn't thought of his parents in quite a while. "They died when I was 17," he explained.

Addison tightened her arms around him and murmured, "I'm sorry, Carson."

He kissed her head and said, "It's alright, Adds. That was a long time ago, and I've learned to deal with it. And that's why I know that you need to deal with the pain of losing your parents. Yours may or may not be dead, but they might as well be."

"I like that you called me 'Adds,'" she said, a smile apparent in her voice. "You must like me at least a little."

He hugged her tight and teased, "Maybe a little."

"I'll take it," she said, happily.

"So," he began. "Do you want to tell me how you decided that you wanted to be my slave?"

Addison haltingly laid out her reasoning. "I don't know if it's what my mom said to me or not, but I realized that I liked to be dominated when I was once with a guy who could get a little rough. He held my head down on his, uh, penis, while I...you know. Anyway, after he came, he said something like, 'Good girl.' I swear it was like a bolt of lightning to my lady parts. I was so happy to hear that.

"I don't even know why. The guy was a complete jerk, and we didn't stick together much longer. But I never forgot that feeling. I started researching it, and exploring it, and before long, I was learning that I really enjoyed the feeling I got when my lover used me to feel good. It was like its own little reward."

Carson was intrigued by her story. "Have you ever had a master before?"

She shook her head no. "I've thought about it for a while, but I haven't felt like I could trust anyone the way I trust you."

"How do you envision it working, if I take ownership?"

Her heart leapt at the prospect. He's actually considering it! She wanted to dance for joy but held off in case he decided against it. "I make a lot of decisions in my work. It's all me. I choose what projects to work on, when I work on them, how much they'll cost—all that. It's exhausting having to think about everything so hard each day. When I come home, I don't want to think anymore. I want to come home and let someone else think for me. That's you.

"If you collar me, it will always be on unless you tell me otherwise. When I'm at work or in public, I will be Addison Parks, computer security specialist. At home, I become 'Slave.' I will wear what you tell me, act as you tell me, and do all that I can to satisfy your least desire. "

"What boundaries do you have?" he asked, speculatively.

She shrugged, suddenly blushing. "I'm not into watersports or poop stuff, and while I like a little bit of pain, I'm not a junkie for it. Other than that, as long as I'm not scarred or disfigured, we'll be good."

"I sleep with a lot of women, Adds. Are you okay with that?"

She sat up and looked into his eyes, suddenly serious. "Carson, you're missing the point. I want you to own me because you're a powerful man who deserves to have his whims catered to. If you want to sleep with another woman, I will help prepare her for you. If you want to watch me eat her pussy or for her to fuck me with a strapon, then command it. I'll enjoy it because my master will be pleased. If you tell me to find you a new playmate, I will do so happily."

"What about other guys?" he asked, curious. He would never be okay with sharing a member of his Pride. Addison, though, seemed to desire a different treatment.

Addison didn't seem concerned at the suggestion in the least. "If my master commands it..."

Carson was in awe of her concept of slavery. It was a huge display of trust that she was offering. His responsibility was to not abuse that trust, though the temptation would be there.

"What's your favorite slave fantasy?"

She thought for only a moment before she gushed, "Ohmigods, I have to tell you this one. It gets me so hot. It starts like this: You're having dinner with the Mistresses." She paused and added, "That's how I think of your wives and lovers. They rank above me, so they're my Mistresses. Anyway, you're all sitting around the table, laughing and having a good time. I'm sitting on the floor at your feet, like always, naked since I don't wear clothes in the house unless instructed to do so. I finish dinner before everyone else and feel a little naughty.

"When you're not looking, I sneak under the table and look to see if any of the Mistresses have a skirt on. I'm in luck, because a few of them do. I crawl over to the first skirt and ease her legs apart. She's not wearing any underwear! She's feeling a little naughty too, because she's already wet. At my gentle tug, she slumps a little in her chair, which gives me enough room to pleasure her. I use every tool and trick at my disposal, my lips, my tongue, and even my fingers. She takes three fingers easily, so I know she's been with you recently. It only takes a minute for me to make her cum, but it's hard enough that her legs clamp down on my head. I can hardly breathe, but it's worth it to give her pleasure.

"I don't know how she does it, but she doesn't make a sound. Somehow, everyone seems oblivious to what's happening under the table. I find a second skirt, and she seems as amenable to my attention as the first. When she cums, instead of clamping her legs around my head, she reaches down with both hands to force my face deep into her pussy. I almost pass out this time, but I don't stop licking until she stops trembling.

"The last skirt covers another beautiful pussy. I do my best, and again, only minutes after I start, she's cumming hard. This time, though, I'm sprayed with her cum as she squirts on my face and mouth. There's even some in my hair. It's dripping from my face and my naked breasts. A quick check and there're no more skirts in the group. I quietly make my way back to my spot. When I emerge, though, I feel your hand grab my collar and haul me to stand before you.

"'Did I excuse you from the table, slave?' you ask. I immediately realize that I've broken the rules and will be punished. My nipples tighten and my pussy begins to water. I mustn't let on how much I crave this part. 'No Master,' I reply sadly."

"Then why were you coming out from under the table just now?"

"Ashamed, all I can say is, 'I was trying to make the Mistresses feel good, Sir.'"

"You stare at me incredulously. 'You left the table without permission and you touched the Mistresses without being ordered?'"

"Hearing you say that makes it sound so deliciously naughty. But I have to keep up appearances. So, petulantly I protest, 'But they liked it Master! They all came as I pleasured them.' Even as I'm saying it, I realize that it's not much of an excuse. You're not going to be pleased."

"Your face clouds over in anger, and you say, 'I see. And did you pleasure all of the Mistresses?' My eyes are downcast, and I meekly answer, 'No Master, only three.'"

"'So you only love three of your Mistresses enough to disobey my orders to pleasure them?' you ask. Panicked, I realize that I might've screwed up even more than I thought. 'No Master!' I cry. I turn to the Mistresses and say, 'I love you all so much. I would never try to hurt anyone's feelings. I didn't think how it would look. I'm a naughty slave,' I finish sadly, the tears rolling down my cheeks."

"'Cheer up,' you say. 'I'm going to give you a chance to make it up to the Mistresses whose feelings you hurt. You want to do something to make it up, don't you?'"

"'Oh yes, Master! Thank you! Anything!' In my fantasy, the next thing I know, I'm on my back on that round ottoman in your living room. My wrists are lashed to my ankles, leaving my legs spread wide for you. One by one, the Mistresses that weren't wearing skirts come into the room. You are watching to make sure that I apologize correctly. I beg each one's forgiveness and offer the use of my body for their pleasure. Some sit on my face, others use a strapon or one of the other toys on me. I'm getting so close to orgasm, but I can't do it. As punishment, I'm not allowed to orgasm until all of the Mistresses are satisfied.

"Finally, you stand up and I can see that your cock is massive and angry. I'm dying to feel it buried within me, and the thought is almost enough to make me cum. 'You've done well, Slave. There's just one more part of the punishment.' All of the Mistresses file in, taking seats around the room. 'Slave,' you say. 'When I collared you, I told you that your mouth, your ass, and your pussy are mine to do with as I will. Tonight you broke my rules intentionally, willfully. I feel a need to remind you of your place. I'm going to use all of my holes again, and you will thank me for teaching you a lesson. You will not cum until I tell you to. Do you understand?'"

"I whimper because I'm already so close, but I nod in agreement. You bring your cock near my lips and I cry out, 'Thank you Master for using this slut's mouth to teach her a lesson!' You don't acknowledge my thanks, choosing instead to slide that monster down my throat. You've trained me well, and with my head hanging over the side of the little couch, I have no problem accepting every inch of you. I love the feeling of my Master's cock stretching my throat. You spend a few minutes fucking my face, pausing occasionally to let me breathe. Next, you flip me over, turning my head to the side so I can breathe. I've had you in my ass many times before, but this time feels different. As you press into me, I again cry out my thanks for using my ass to teach my lesson.