Catharsis

When she's stopped moving, Drew leans forward to put his elbows on his knees.

"I can't just give this to you," Drew says softly. "You have to earn it."

"Yes, sir."

"You have to earn it my way."

"Yes, sir."

"Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Kenzie recoils, her eyes snap shut and she almost forgets her posture, almost covers her face with her hands. She takes another slow breath, and shakes her head.

"An answer isn't optional."

She forces air in and out of her lungs. Her voice is shaky, barely audible, "I don't have the words. It's too much. There was too much. I can't. I'm not..." Forces her lungs to work again. Gains a little volume, manages to open her eyes. "This was so much worse. So many people. So much pain. I'm full of pain. Of other people's pain. I don't have anywhere to put it."

Her head drops, she slouches for a moment. Drew leans back, rubs his hand over his face.

"What do you need?" he asks, gently.

She straightens herself up again. "To erase some of it. Purge. Replace it with something that I know will heal." She was shaking her head again. "I know that doesn't make any sense to you. I don't know how else to put it."

He nods slightly, crosses his arms over his chest. Feels her need flowing out of her, fertilizing his darkest desires. She's wrong, he does understand. He uses pain too. He uses the infliction of pain, on his willing partner, to manage himself, to order his sometimes chaotic mind. He uses her reactions to purge his distress, and uses the necessity of control to rein in his basest needs.

He sits up straighter, the warmth of arousal sliding over him like a comfortable pair of jeans. "What's your word?"

"I don't want it. I won't..."

He cuts her off sharply. "It's nonnegotiable. What's your word?"

She tightens up her posture, gazing at his lap, his penis still hidden in his pajama bottoms. "Cavalier, sir. My safeword is Cavalier."

In one swift movement, Drew stands, steps to her, and yanks her upright by her hair. "Yes, it is."

One hand clutched in her hair, he uses the other to jerk loose the drawstring holding up his pajamas. Kenzie reaches out and loosens them, then slides the soft pants over his hips so he can step out of them. He pushes into her, backing her against the wall. One hand wound in her hair, the other pressed hard against her sternum, palm close to her heart. He leans in and down, pulling her up to him.

"Look at me," he commands, and she drags her eyes up to meet his. His normally brown eyes are black with need and his distress at her torment. He shifts even closer to her, and his breath billows across her face, down her neck.

He leans down and whispers hoarsely next to her ear. "Twenty two days," he breathes. "You were away twenty-two days, and you come back to me like this?" His voice cracks, "Hurting like this?" His anguish scrapes against her skin and she has to close her eyes.

He slides his hand up her chest, across her throat and tilts her chin up so their mouths are barely separated. "I'll do anything, anything, for you. Anything to help. Anything you need."

He brushes her lips with his own and she moans into him, feels the dam inside her cracking, feels that glimmer of hope trickle down her spine again. He kisses her desperately, and she opens her mouth, invites him in, responds in kind. She forgets formality and grips his wrist, pulling him toward her, rising up on her toes, leaning against his strength.

Drew pulls away just enough to break the kiss, pressing his forehead against Kenzie's. His free hand slides back down, across her breast and he wraps the arm around her. She clutches against him, feeling weak and uncertain.

"Tell me, love. Tell me what will help."

Kenzie shakes her head, trembling against him. "I don't know. Everything, anything. Whatever you've got. Whatever you want. I... I have to stop thinking. You know. You know how."

He uses the hand in her hair to spin her to face the wall, pressing himself against her as she pushes back.

"I've missed you for twenty-two days, Kenzie." His free hand stroking down her spine.

"Drew. I missed you, too. I need you. Do your worst. Make me forget who I am."

He wraps his arm around her again, his hand tracing down her front to cup her vulva. "I can't make you forget who you are." He squeezes hard, crushing all that delicate skin in a steel vice until she gasps. "I can only help you remember who you are to me."

He loosens his grasp on her lower lips and she sighs, leaning back into him. They stand like that for a few moments, propped on each other, together against the world. Drew drops his head and brushes her neck with his lips then bares his teeth and nips.

He jerks back and pulls her off the wall. He never relinquishes his grip as he turns and pulls her into the bathroom. He pushes her ahead of him into the shower stall; she crashes into the wall and he collides with her. He twists her hair and shoves her down to her knees, then over. He presses her face to the shower floor with his foot. He stands like that, his need growing by the second, his sadist arguing for more, telling him to move his foot to her neck, to squeeze, press harder. He stares down at her, gathers himself and turns on the shower spray. He moves back, allowing her to kneel up as she wets a washcloth, squeezes soap onto it and lathers his legs and midsection.

Kenzie has always loved this, the simple act of cleaning him, and how small and unimportant she feels in these moments. The knowledge that if she is small and unimportant, then so are her problems. That small, unimportant problems are easily managed. She concentrates on wiping him off, attending to each crevice of his skin, touching him lightly and reverently. She feels the pain inside her shifting, beginning to settle.

Beyond her reach, he washes himself; she waits, hands cupped together just above her head for him to place the washcloth when he's done. Her head is slightly bowed, and she is kneeling in that space between the falling water and the wall. It's warm, steamy and she is occasionally splashed while he finishes up. He rinses the cloth and wrings it out over her head, coating her in dirty, soapy water. Each simple act of disregard on his part helping guide her to the mindset she needs. The pain settles a little more.

He puts the cloth in her hands and she clutches it to her heart. He steps closer to her and she reaches for his penis with her mouth. She licks around his glans and down his shaft. He allows her to briefly hold him in her mouth. When he pulls out of her, he brushes his fingertips along the top of her head.

She straightens her spine, puts her hands behind her back, showing that she is listening.

Drew reaches down to tilt her head up, but she keeps her gaze lowered. He instructs her, "Clean. Hair. Present yourself in the living room." He bends and kisses her hard on the lips.

While Kenzie finishes in the bathroom, Drew returns to their bedroom and sits heavily on the end of the bed. He keeps thinking about what she said, about needing to purge what she'd witnessed and about wanting to forget. He thinks about what he'd said in response, that he can only help her remember who she is to him.

He imagines a system that needs a reset, a reboot, and that leads him back to their first meeting. That first session with the rules and formality. He begins to think that might be the answer. Bring her back to the beginning, as much as possible, and add what they've learned about each other since.

During that first session, he'd been clothed almost the whole time. In a three piece suit with a tie. He'd made a big deal in his mind about creating as much disparity between the two of them as he could. Like the memorized petition, his wearing a suit against her nakedness had been part of his fantasy. A sign of his sophistication against her baser needs. Drew knows his needs are just as base as hers. But it had the effect he wanted, he got the response he wanted. And the thinks that response is needed now.

He no longer has the suit he wore all those years ago, so he picks one he rarely wears now. A dark charcoal gray with a tiny green pinstripe. He leaves the jacket in the closet, putting on the slacks, a green long sleeved button down shirt, a dark gray tie, and the matching vest. It fits him perfectly; he looks like he's headed to an important business meeting, except for the bare feet and the obvious erection.

He combs his hair, brushes off a few stray pieces of lint, and checks himself in the mirror. While he dressed he'd mentally planned a few things. He collects what he wants out of their special armoire, and goes to the living room to wait for Kenzie.

Drew doesn't have to wait long. He's just settled onto the couch and pulled up the news on his tablet when he hears the shower shut off. Minutes later, Kenzie appears in the living room.

True to his instructions, she is scrubbed from head to toe. She's used hair remover or shaved everywhere from her shoulders down. She's fixed her hair as she knows he wants. Her hair is long, naturally hanging more than halfway down her back, and while Drew likes playing with it and pulling on it, for sessions like these, he wants it out of the way. She's pulled it to the top of her head and braided it tightly. She fastened the end to the base of the ponytail, leaving just enough room for Drew's fingers to slide through the looped hair. He has his handle on the top of her head, and none is hanging down to obscure his access to her back or get tangled in whatever bondage he has in mind.

Kenzie stands naked in front of Drew, who is pointedly ignoring her. She spreads her feet just past shoulder width, and laces her hands behind her head. As before, she holds her head high, but lowers her eyes to look at his crotch. She is pleased to see his arousal evident even as he sits, seemingly relaxed, swiping through one article after another.

She settles her breathing, focusing on him. She starts to feel the stirrings of arousal in herself. Her nipples hardening not just from the cool air in the house; the dampness between her legs not evidence of a shoddy job drying herself after the shower. She feels her heart pounding now at least as much in anticipation as it had been in distress. A wave of calm flows over her, and she greets it like a long lost friend.

Drew glances up at her, his heart also pounding, hoping that he is doing the right thing for her. Warring with the evil parts of himself who would take advantage of her need. Who would push her to her brink just to see where it was. It's always been a tightrope for him, walking over the canyon that is his desire to hurt, to cause pain for pain's sake, and the ground where both their needs are safely met.

Knowing where her gaze is supposed to be, Drew discards the tablet and settles his hands in his lap. He twirls a finger, and Kenzie begins to slowly revolve in front of him. She spins one full rotation; he twirls his finger again, pointing it down. She spins once more, stopping so that her back is to him. She spreads her arms out wide, then high over her head, rising on her tiptoes as she does. Then she lowers herself back down and slides her hands along her ribcage down and grips her own butt cheeks.

She bends over slowly, pulling her cheeks apart and stopping so that her back is as flat as a table. She lowers her head, glancing back between her legs, and sees that his finger remains pointed down. So she bends further, her hands gliding down the back of her thighs and calves, until she places her hands on the floor directly below her head. She makes eye contact with Drew's crotch once more. She is completely displayed for him, ass high in the air, cheeks barely springing back together, her labia spread open, her legs wide and muscles taut, her back arched and her breasts dangling. She licks her lips, and feels the damp between her legs turning to wet. This physical objectification is shifting her pain around, shifting her focus from her troubled and chaotic mind to the sensations of being alive in her own skin.

Kenzie wants the pain. She wants the degradation. She wants the quiet that suffuses her when all she can do is react to what he's doing to her, when all she can think about is managing his assault. Standing there exposed, his object, she is hopeful.

But as Drew regards Kenzie and she waits, she is assaulted by memory. The crying man, before he collapsed against her, trying to tell her about his brother. The long wall of missing posters, for all the people who were no longer missing, and who would never be found. The roar of the air conditioning in that warehouse turned shelter, that sounded too much like fighter planes screaming overhead. Kenzie begins to tremble, not from strain, or the blood rushing to her head, but because of everything she wants to escape.

Drew's eyes feast on her form, his cock hard, demanding to slide home inside her. Drew watches her, aware of the changes in her face, his own hope rising with his erection. He has his own worries to fight, his own chaotic mind to settle, his own needs for outside pressures to be refashioned into something tolerable. They fit together, Drew and Kenzie, and her need to offer herself up to him is surpassed only by his desire to accept that offer with brutal gratitude.

Drew waits a moment or two more, controlling himself, savoring his plans. He stands and moves toward her, stopping by the coffee table to pull off the towel he'd used to cover some items. Kenzie's gaze travels with him, but her angle prevents her from seeing what is laid there. Wordlessly, Drew picks up the bottle of lube, squirting some onto her ass before quickly working his thumb into her. She doesn't flinch but grimaces for a split second when he pushes in the lubed butt plug.

Once that's in place, he finds the remote control vibrator and coats it, unsure whether she's ready enough to forgo lubrication. He slides the vibrator into her pussy and she sighs, relaxing against him minutely. Then he picks up the last item. Two clothes pins, glued side by side. He pinches one of her outer labia in one half of the pair, and pulls her lips closed to pinch the other side in the other pin. Three sets effectively close her pussy around the vibrator, so that regardless of what he does or how long it's in, it won't slide out.

He slaps her butt cheeks lightly, rubs his fingers down from behind the plug and tugs on the clothes pins, before rubbing up and gripping the front of her vulva. He slaps lightly there, too, then retreats back to the couch. At the first short sharp pains, from the plug and the clothespins, Kenzie is able to refocus on her body. The memories begin fading again, allowing her some space.

When Drew settles in his seat, he points his finger up, and twirls once again. Kenzie slowly raises upright, reversing the movements from before. She makes sure to tug on the clothes pins as her hands reach her upper thighs, and to squeeze her butt cheeks before pressing against the end of the plug. She straightens up, arms spread wide again and once more rotates through a turn and a half. Now facing Drew, she notes he's turned two fingers down.

She presses her feet together, and fluidly lowers herself into the same kneeling position she had when they spoke in the bedroom. Knees spread wide, hands behind her head, her feet tucked under her, giving just barely enough room that the clothes pins don't jam into her pelvis. She centers herself again, waiting for his word.

Drew stares at her for a long minute, his cock twitching. He leans forward, elbows on knees.

He reaches for more formality from their first few sessions.

"Say your vows," Drew commands.

Kenzie responds immediately, "I pledge voluntary silence, an obedient mind, and a compliant body."

Drew replies, "I pledge clear communication, a firm hand, and trustworthy respect."

He sits up straighter, gestures and says, "Come over here."

Kenzie crawls to him because it feels right in the moment. She moves slowly, sensually, keeping her eyes trained on his lap. When she gets to the couch, she kneels between his legs. She leans forward to kiss his crotch, to kiss his balls and the base of the bulge in his pants. When she presses the tip of her tongue against him, he cups his hands under her chin and pulls her up. He leans down to make eye contact with her. He kisses her deeply, his mouth moving against hers so that she opens, his tongue tasting the inside of her mouth, penetrating her, owning her. She responds by fully opening herself to him, pressing against him. She slides her hands along the outside of his thighs.

He glides his hands down her back, pressing and squeezing her skin, lowering his grip until he reaches her butt. He grabs each cheek, digging his fingers into her flesh, pulling the halves apart and up toward him. With her firmly in his grasp, he pulls away from the kiss, and her eyes immediately drop back to his lap.

He leans down and speaks softly into her ear.

"Tell me again, Kenzie. What do you want?"

She trembles, safe enough in this embrace to let her control go a little. Her voice is soft, her head laying on his shoulder. "I need you to make me remember who I am to you."

He tuts, softly, annoyed at her deliberately vague answer.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

"Yes," she whispers.

"You want to feel pain?"

"Yes. Please. I need pain today."

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

She shudders, "Probably. I'm not sure right now." She breathes out and moves her head, glances at his face. "If you want to fuck me, then I want that."

She steadies herself, knowing that he expects nothing less than complete honesty from her. Knowing that this will not work if she can't be open with him. Before she can say, he asks the question of her.

"Are you aroused?"

"Yes, sir," she nods. "Yes; some."

He squeezes her ass again, then pats both cheeks gently. He moves his hands to cup her neck and turns her head to look him in the eye. "I think this is going to be a long day for both of us, love."

She'd nodding, her eyes wet, but Drew can also see the need in them. She puts her hands behind her back, arms crossed over. She smiles at him, wan, tentative, hopeful. "I think so too. But I think it will help."

His erection has died down slightly, and Drew realizes that he's hungry. Neither of them have eaten. He pats Kenzie's face and says, "Get us some breakfast, love."

*~~* 3 *~~*

As Kenzie rises to go to the kitchen, Drew presses the button and the vibrator secured in her cunt fires up. She jumps slightly, and wiggles her butt without thinking about it. Drew chuckles, leans back against the couch and absentmindedly rubs his crotch, arranging his pants so they're slightly more comfortable.

While Kenzie is cooking, Drew periodically resets the vibrator to different patterns, never leaving one going long enough for her to get used to it. He hears her occasional gasp over the noise in the kitchen, and a devilish smile plays on his lips. He goes back to their special armoire and collects a couple of items. He thinks about the plan.

He knows she would rather he jump to the impact play. But he thinks the day will be better for her if he's led her down a path first. He wants to reassert her submission to him, to at least show her that headspace that allows her to forget the outside world, and focus only on the two of them. He knows he can't make her feel that, but he can try all the tricks that usually work.

He's settled back in the living room, with his items from the armoire on a chair nearby. He pulled the coffee table over to one side. He knows she can't exactly sit, not with the clothespins where they are. He knows her tolerance for pain, and that she will be ok with the pins for a while yet.

She walks in slowly, the vibrator still buzzing away inside her. She sways her hips more dramatically, trying to get it to shift, so close to cumming, but without the final push that would get her there. Drew watches, a lascivious and wolfish grin on his face. As Kenzie bends over to put the tray on the coffee table, Drew shuts the device off. She lets out an audible sigh of disappointment.