Catharsis

She's made a simple meal. Some eggs scrambled with vegetables, ham, and cheese; a couple of slices of toast. Coffee; juice for him, water for her. She kneels, mindful of the clothespins, and picks at her food. Kenzie's mind is settling, but not settled. She slips quickly into misery and frustration. Drew watches as he eats; he decides he needs to snap her out of herself again.

"Do I need to order you to eat, Kenzie?" he says, somewhat sternly.

She shakes her head, finishes her meal. Drew eats quickly as well, hungry with other desires needing to be sated. When Kenzie returns from putting their dishes away, Drew has moved the coffee table again. He beckons Kenzie to him, has her stand with her legs spread, her hands clasped behind her.

He kisses her belly, kisses each hip, kisses down her center to where the first set of clothespins hold her closed. He releases those and she gasps, shudders. He reaches his tongue into the space now created, licks her clit, then rubs her flesh gently. He repeats with the next two sets of pins, removing them then teasing her, then helping the blood recirculate. He drinks in each of her gasps, and sharp inhale when he yanks off the last pair. He pulls the vibrator and the butt plug from her and slides two fingers into her. He looks up, watching her face, as he finger fucks her, his other hand loosely around her waist, holding her steady.

She's wet, her labia swollen, pulsating as the blood returns and as Drew continues to tease her. He works quickly in her, waiting until her breath comes in short puffs and long inhales. Then he stops, brushes his fingertips around her vulva, and she whimpers. He chuckles darkly. He taps lightly on her abdomen so she takes a step or two back. He stands, and gives her the signal to turn her back to him.

He pulls out the first item from the chair. An arm binder; its loops go around her shoulders, with a semi rigid connector between the two loops and down. Attached to the back connector are four wide straps with stiff velcro closures. Each strap can be adjusted independently, giving him options as to how tight to make things. Her hands remain free, which has other dividends.

He slides the loops over her shoulders, and she immediately pushes her hands out, giving him room to work. He adjusts each strap so that her arms are secured fully behind her, elbows almost touching. The little bit of slack allows her to wear it longer, giving him access and opportunity for all kinds of wicked adventures. This morning he has something mundane in mind. The stress of the position and the inability to use her hands will focus Kenzie on the task, which is what they both want.

Drew checks all the closures, and asks Kenzie how it feels. She reports no undue discomfort, no particular pinching. She wriggles both wrists, rolling her hands, and making fists then stretching out her fingers. Drew stands behind her and reaches down to pinch her nipples, to fondle her large breasts. He gives each one a few slaps, until she hisses and leans into him. He nips at her neck, then pulls out the next item.

A pair of nipple clamps, with a chain between them. Simple, adjustable pressure, they've played with these countless times. He affixes each one and revels in the grimace that flashes across Kenzie's face. He tugs lightly at the chain and whispers that he still has the weights to add, if he wants. She shakes her head, and even with the awkward position of her arms, Drew sees her shoulders relax slightly, he sees a little of the tension seeping out of her neck.

He kisses the back of Kenzie's neck, and presses his crotch against her hands.

"I need a blow job," he murmurs. She nods, and after a couple of fumbling starts, is able to find the zipper of his fly. She shifts around on her feet, moving against him as she unzips his pants and reaches in to pull out his now fully engorged cock. She wraps her hands around him and slips along his length.

"I said 'blow job'," Drew repeats.

Kenzie lets him go, turns around and squats down as he sits again on the couch. His cock juts up from the opening in his pants, his shirt tail visible. He makes no move to undress, makes no move to assist her. He plants his feet wide and she scoots forward on her knees. As before, she leans down and kisses, this time not cloth, but his naked flesh. She nuzzles the very base of his cock with her nose. She licks, sticking her tongue down past the zipper, feeling the teeth grate on the sides, but also feeling him shift slightly as she finds a spot she knows so well.

She presses her tongue against the base of his cock, right where it meets his testicles. She pulses her tongue there, then slowly works her way up the shaft. She uses short, firm licks, keeping the flat of her tongue in contact with his shaft until she reaches his head. She swirls her tongue around his head, twice, three times, until it is coated in her spit. She curls her tongue around and slides down one side, up across the head, down the other side, back up, and once more down the underside to dive into his fly and try to lick his balls.

Drew has relaxed against the sofa, his hands falling to his sides, his expression easily mistaken for sleepy. But he watches her. He drinks in the sight of Kenzie servicing him. Seeing the devotion she puts into this act, the way her eyes half close, and then she forces them open to look at him. The way she moves her jaw to push out as much of her tongue as she can. The way she times her breathing so that her air moving over him also excites, also titillates. She leans in, seemingly oblivious to the imbalance caused by her arms being trapped behind her. Seemingly unconcerned with the clamps on her nipples, or the way the chain occasionally catches and tugs.

Kenzie focuses on the smells coming from Drew, the earthy musky maleness of him. She focuses on the sweat pooling in his thatch of trimmed pubic hair. She focuses on monitoring his movements, his sounds and reactions, that encourage her to keep doing what he likes, and desist with what he's not in the mood for. It clears her mind, begins to remind her of other parts of her psyche.

She keeps licking, until his whole cock is covered in her saliva, then she begins taking him in her mouth. Sliding down, back up, down further, up, down even further, until his head hits the top of her throat. Until her gag reflex reminds her of his size. She holds him there, not moving up or down, but sucking, humming against him, using her tongue to massage the big veins on his underside. He's a little more than halfway in her mouth.

Kenzie feels Drew shifting on the couch under her. She pulls off, looking at him, her saliva dripping off of him. She licks down his underside, and this time when she gets back to his balls, he puts a hand on her head. His cock is laying on her face, her tongue sticking out. He stills her movements and stares at her. He strokes her cheek with one finger and she sees his eyes have hardened, that his sadist wants to play, that her testing is about to begin. She shivers, her pussy clenches and she feels real, full arousal. Her focus is entirely on Drew, everything else in the world is meaningless.

She shifts her head slightly, so that she can kiss the very base of his cock. He clamps his hand on her head.

"See where you are now? Where your lips are now?" Drew says.

Kenzie nods. Drew says, "That's how far I'm going to be in your throat. All the way. I'm going to shove my cock down your throat and you're going to lick my balls."

She blinks her eyes and nods again. She knew this was coming. Drew lets go of her and she glides back up to his head. She makes a circuit of it with her tongue, and begins working him back into her mouth. Down, up, down more, up, down even more. She stops again just past where she'd been before, takes a deep breath in through her nose, concentrates and slides down further. She's missing the mark by less than an inch, her eyes watering, her gorge rising. She settles herself again, slides down until her nose touches fabric. She feels Drew's hand on her head. She opens her mouth as wide as possible, her throat aching. He holds her there, she's not sure how long, but just as she was about to buck against him, about to signal that she really can't breathe, he lets go.

She slides off of him quickly, but holds his tip on her tongue as she sucks in air. His expression is unreadable, smug maybe, confident, demanding. He winds his fingers into the loop of hair on her head, and she starts taking him in again. He's not interested in niceties or tricks. He just wants to fuck her throat. He pulls her head onto him and starts thrusting. She wriggles her fingers, tries to reposition in her kneeling stance, tries to find an angle that's easier to take him. He pulls her down, and he fucks, until her nose meets cloth again and then he settles. She trusts that he'll let go. Her mind is blank except for managing her breathing and then managing holding her breath. After what was probably a few seconds, but feels like longer, Drew lets go of her hair, and Kenzie is able to pull off.

He's laid his head back against the couch, his arms flung out to the sides. The very tip of his cock remains in her mouth, resting on her tongue. She slides her mouth along his underside, licking that favored spot at the base when she gets there. She focuses on him, the noise in her mind fading. When she reaches his glans again, she opens, pulls him into her mouth, pushes herself down. And down, and hesitates, breathes, and pushes down again. Gagging a little, concentrating on opening her jaw and her throat, she slides down more. And more, until she reaches the point again. Her eyes screwed shut, involuntary tears leaking out. She struggles, determined to succeed. She reaches the tip of her tongue out, taps just outside her lips.

Her world is a shrunken fraction of what it had been. The only things that exist are the rasp of his zipper against her lips, the smell of his musk in her nose, the tickle of his hair on her face, the fire in her lungs as she continues to hold her breath. All she feels is the ache in her jaw, the stress in her shoulders, the growing wetness in her pussy as it clenches, twitching, and her heart pounds. She holds herself, holds herself down, holds herself still. Drew doesn't touch her. He doesn't guide; he forces nothing, applies no pressure. Kenzie applies all the pressure herself, to herself, to pleasing him, to forgetting herself.

Then her screaming lungs demand air, her jaw threatens to clamp down, and the slightest twitch from Drew threatens the delicate equilibrium she has gained with her gag reflex. Kenzie pulls off of him, faster than she'd intended, her instinct for survival winning the battle against a desire for a semblance of grace. Kenzie stops just short of dropping Drew's cock, her mouth open and panting. She looks up at him, and finds him settled back against the couch, his head thrown back and eyes closed.

She suckles and licks, kisses and nips his flesh with her lips. She bobs up and down on him. She listens as he moans or grunts, listens to his breathing, feels the tension change in his cock as his balls start to contract. She holds him in her mouth as he cums, spurting into her, coating her mouth with his salty, seawater seed. She sucks every last drop from him, swallows, and licks him clean.

Her nipples hurt now. Her arms feel the stress of the binder, her shoulders pulled back. Drew gives a contented sigh, and pulls Kenzie's head down into his lap. He strokes her face, wraps one hand around the back of her neck, while idly gliding his other hand up and down the part of her arms he can touch. He runs his fingers in her hair, and all she feels is peace. Peace, belonging, safety, flowing over her with each of his caresses.

When Drew has breath to speak he says, "My god, woman. You're so good at that."

She smiles, kisses his cock, still under her. He laughs, says, "Round two will have to wait a minute." She chuckles in turn, snuggles against him, not wanting to move.

They rest like that a while, Kenzie content in Drew's half embrace. He lays back, staring at the ceiling, planning. So far, things are going as he'd hoped. He believed that reinforcing the formality, that giving her a specific task to perform would distract her worried mind. He sees by the smile on her face and the heavy look in her eyes that it has, at least temporarily. He doubts her ease would last, if he left things as they are.

When he has thought things through again, has calculated the supplies he needs, he taps Kenzie on the left shoulder. She scoots back and assumes a cousin of her previous position, knees spread wide, head high, gaze focused on his lap. Of course, she can't put her hands behind her head, but the arm binder more than adequately alters her posture to emphasize her tits. Drew, spying the nipple clamps and the chain, decides to give Kenzie her first taste of pain. He reaches out and tugs on the clamps, testing their security. She winces, blinks, and gives a soft hiss as he continues to play, jostling one breast or the other, pulling on the chain.

He gathers the slack in the chain and lifts it up toward her mouth. Her breasts lift slightly, just off her chest wall and the nipples twist as the angle of the clamps change. He taps her lips, pushes the chain in her mouth, and then tilts her chin back until he sees the wince again.

"There you go. Stay just like that. Don't move until I come back."

Her eyes widen, she releases a slow breath out her nose. She presses her lips against the chain.

Drew stands, walks around behind her, and pulls on her shoulders slightly. Now her torso is just forward from straight up, and the shift makes her breasts jiggle again. As he walks away, Drew hears another low hiss from her. He smiles broadly, evilly, and his cock twitches.

*~~* 4 *~~*

He goes to the basement to make sure he has everything he wants. When Drew and Kenzie moved into the house there was a finished basement with a small studio apartment. They turned it into their playroom. They left the walls and the solid door to the apartment, for privacy. They added some unobtrusive soundproofing. They took down the walls around the bathroom, so that it was exposed to the rest of the space. They added a nice bathtub to go with the shower. One wall was a kitchen, full of cabinets stocked with most unusual items. It was nice to have a couple of sinks and a refrigerator. Against another wall was a full sized bed, with a very sturdy metal frame, suitable for all kinds of attachment points. There was also a regular dining table and some chairs, and enough room for an armchair.

They didn't have much in the way of fancy equipment, but Drew had fashioned one thing he was particularly proud of. Using thick planks of wood and some steel tubing, he'd created a system that lifts Kenzie just far enough off the floor that her pelvis is even with his when he stands. Depending on how far out he wants her arms or legs spread, he can make adjustments. There is a shelf that she stands on, and a tube with attachment points to hold her hands. Through so many years of practice, he knew which adjustments to make for what he had planned today.

He quickly gathers the rest of what he wants, putting things so they will be easily to hand at the right time. He changes the sheets on the bed. He pours a few ice cubes into a bowl, adds water, and sets a washcloth down so it hangs half in the water and half out. He puts the bowl and a frozen bottle of water on the table next to the bed. He lights some candles and adjusts the lights. He double checks his rig, checks the suspension cuffs, and looks around once more. Suddenly feeling nervous, he adjusts his clothes, smooths his hair, and leaves his prick swinging in the wind.

In the living room, Kenzie's nipples are burning, her shoulders are starting to throb. Her face is covered in drool and tears from the deep throating. She shifts a few times in her stance, her knees also beginning to ache. She listens intently for any noise Drew makes downstairs, trying to give herself some clue as to what is coming next.

She thinks back to the first session, having realized that he was taking at least some of his cues from that. She remembers the thorough flogging, a lot of wax and temperature play, and a fair amount of objectification. Standing around and trying not to think is the last thing she needs today. She wants impacts, something sudden, something shocking. Maybe actually shocking, but they hadn't done that in a long time.

She turns her head when she hears Drew climbing the stairs, and gasps at the sudden jolt on her nipple. She realizes she'd been trying so hard to figure out what he was doing that she hadn't paid any attention to the turmoil in her mind. The realization makes her sigh, just as Drew walks back in the room.

He attempts to look solemn, but she sees the corners of his lips moving in a suppressed smile. He bends down slightly to take the chain out of her mouth, and then tugs upward. She hisses at him, and unfolds herself into a standing position. Because her balance is still thrown off, she sways away and toward him, yanking on her breasts several times in the process. She groans as Drew stands there passive, looking down his nose at her.

He tugs on the chain to get her to walk toward the basement stairs. When she gets to the door he drops the chain and goes around behind her. He holds onto the topmost strap of the arm binder, guiding and steadying her as she descends.

The playroom looks lovely, Kenzie thinks. There are clusters of candles on the table and along the counter. Some of them are scented in one of her favorite fragrances, but not so many that it's overpowering. He's dimmed the lights, but it's still easy to see that he's made a space in the middle, and that there are fresh sheets on the bed.

He leads her to the bed and positions her to sit sideways on the edge, facing his contraption. Kenzie notes the long floggers hanging on their hook at one end, sees the Hitachi in its spot and plugged in. Then she sees the bucket, and several lengths of cording hanging out of it. Her heart flutters, and her pussy clenches. She knows what that means.

Drew sits behind Kenzie and fondles her breasts again, squeezing the tips firmly before taking off the nipple clamps. Kenzie twitches and lets out a short squeal as the pressure releases.

Drew continues massaging her breasts until she leans back against him. Then he says sharply, "You're supposed to be quiet. You know I can't let that slide."

Kenzie rolls her eyes, as he rubs his hands along her shoulders and neck. She wants to protest that grunts and squeals aren't words, so they shouldn't count. But saying that would be a clear violation, thereby proving his point. She settles for nodding slowly and turning to smile at him.

Drew taps her nose and says, "I saw you roll your eyes, too, disrespectful harlot." Then he grins and so does she.

He turns her back towards him and starts loosening the arm binder. He loosens each strap a little at a time, letting her muscles gradually ease back closer to their normal positions before taking it off completely. Then he leans her torso against him, and massages and rubs each arm and shoulder until it is loose. While he does, he tucks his chin on her shoulder and points at the bucket.

"You know what's in there, don't you?"

She nods.

"Worried?"

She nods, shakes her head, nods, rolls her head in a circle.

"Ok. But remember, you hate it, and you love it, too. You told me that yourself."

Her nod starts slowly; nonverbal skepticism. Drew wraps both arms tightly around Kenzie, pulls her close to him, presses his cheek against hers. His voice is soft, but also hoarse, full of his own need. "I can't tell you that we can stop anytime. We need to see this through. But I promise you that I'll only do what I think you can handle."