Doritos with Jesse

I blushed and nodded. He's read my mind.

"Clever girl, but no can do. That would be too easy, and I know you don't need help to count chips. Only a fool would fail at this."

His lips parted again, waiting for eleven. His palate was nacho cheese orange.

But as I reached into the bowl and handed him the flake of corn, he shook his head, refusing it.

"With your cleavage, please. Put it between your boobs and serve it to me that way."

I burst out laughing! He can't be serious... what cleavage?! I have the breasts of a prepubescent girl! Guess I'll have to squish them together and make do.

I did as he instructed. Placing a corner of the chip lightly into the two-inch slit I managed to create by smooshing my breasts together in my bra, I got up and offered it to him, leaning in as close as I could. Hopefully, he wouldn't keep this up or my Victoria's Secret would turn orange from cheese dust!

He cocked his head and retrieved the chip lightly with his teeth, leaving his fingers out of the equation, a feat in itself. He was so handy with that dragon's tongue of his!

Eleven.

"You smell really nice," he said with a hungry groan. "What are you wearing for me?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you." I smirked at him. The warm, spicy essence of an alluring rose and coffee middle, intermingling with smoky incense, sandalwood, patchouli, and amber, created a luscious aura about my skin. Whenever I sprayed Tom Ford's Cafe Rose, I felt sexy and sensuous, as if I'd slipped into a glove tailor-fit to my soul. I wasn't sure the scent mixed well with my Dom's chosen snack, but he didn't seem to mind the dissonant duo.

Chips twelve through twenty-four followed, with growing time lapses between them as we both got sucked into the show.

John Dutton's cowboy son Kayce brings a wild stallion to the ranch he shares with his Native wife Monica, on the Broken Rock Indian Reservation. "I wonder what he's thinking," Monica says as they look at the beautiful beast corralled in unfamiliar territory. Kayce, his dirty face shaded by the brim of a large black cowboy hat, mutters, "He's probably thinking I took his freedom." She turns to him and sweetly delivers the piercing line with multiple meanings; "Well, he's right."

"The writing on this show...ugh!" I sighed.

"Did I permit you to speak?" Jesse scolded. "But, you're right. I knew you had good taste."

Smiling, I looked straight ahead at the TV, lest he admonish me for making eye contact, too. Speech and eye restrictions weren't always clearly delineated in our scenes. It was up to me to guess when he preferred silence. I usually got it right, but not always, and often he just liked to heckle me.

Political power grabs ensue between the tribal peoples and the whites, with a presentation by the enigmatic new Chairman of Broken Rock, donning a majestic full headdress, and showing the senator a festival full of dancing tribal members outside his casino. Meanwhile, a land developer pleas with a bank to fund his housing development, which will destroy the very nature people come to Montana to see. In a bar directly below, between martini sips, Beth blows more holes than a shotgun into a stranger's pickup lines. Her departing line shines; "You look like a soft fuck, Ted. All you city boys do."

I couldn't help but chuckle. This time, instead of a reprimand, I received a head pat, making me purr. Now if only he'd tickle me under the chin. He took a break on the chips and let me get absorbed in the show gratefully. Guess he wanted to spare my lingerie after all.

Flying in on his private Dutton Ranch helicopter, John settles a livestock dispute with neighboring tribal peoples after his cows wander onto the wrong side of the fence, the barbed wire mysteriously missing. Later on, the elegant senator exchanges words with Dutton during a livestock auction and leaves by trailing her fingers up John's arm seductively. Never a dull moment in Yellowstone!

"Oooh, trouble's 'a brewin'!" The words slipped out before I even remembered about my vow of silence.

"That's it." Jesse pounced, as if waiting for my next transgression. He reached between the sofa cushions and produced a pair of metal handcuffs, holding them by the chain so the cuffs clanked together, a sound that always arose my peach fuzz to stand on end.

"I'm not gonna say it twice, Invicta." The look on his face stirred things in me I didn't know I had; and didn't want him to know I had, but couldn't hide it. "Turn around and present your wrists."

The tone of his command was deep and dour, yet hard to take seriously. But I knew I better than to giggle, because if I did, he'd give me something I couldn't ignore.

Click! The cuffs snapped shut and my hands were now useless behind my back, at his mercy. God only knows where he keeps the key.

As I faced the TV, he pushed my right shoulder down, signaling me to kneel on my pillow, so I did. My knees cracked at a certain angle, but he ignored it.

Then I felt his hot breath blow over my collarbone from behind me and his scruff scrape my earlobe. He smelled of spicy nacho cheese and some generic, aquatic deodorant, an odd mix. He whispered a deadly question, and my mind went blank.

"How many chips have I eaten?"

If he'd asked even two minutes ago, before he whipped out the cuffs, I'd have given him an answer easily, cheerfully, but now? Crickets. I had no idea. It hadn't even been that many. How could I lose count so soon?

He twisted the chain on the cuffs, putting a strain on my wrists as they inched closer together, the metal biting into my flesh.

"Hmmm?" He hummed in my ear. I could hear him smiling through the sound. "How many? I know you're smart enough to keep track."

Not when my anxiety rages!

"Sir, I'm afraid..." I started, whispering.

"You're afraid what?"

"I'm afraid I forgot. It was somewhere in the twenties, I think. But I forgot how many exactly." My voice trembled and my extremities were freezing.

Just then, another implement appeared from between the cushions. Does he have a whole secret dungeon tucked away inside his couch?

Suddenly, the soft leather tails of his flogger wrapped around my throat and tightened to an almost uncomfortable degree. I felt my pulse push against the falls in a hectic, uneven rhythm.

"I'm afraid this will not do, Lady Invicta. I gave you one task, and one task only, and you've failed to complete it. You failed ME. You FAILED!" His voice grew louder yet deeper as his anger built. The leather squeezed my neck further, causing me to gasp. He let go a few seconds, then resumed the initial snug fit as before.

"And what do we do with FAILURES in this house, Lady Invicta?"

I bowed my head, thinking.

"A great number of things, I suppose. Whatever you see fit."

"Ah... correct answer. Whatever I see fit. And for this infraction, I'll give you a flogging. I'll strike you for every chip I've consumed, and you must give me the count. Ready? Head down, ass up."

I did as instructed, balancing my weight on my forehead pressed into the carpet, my arms useless behind me, and awaited the first hit.

It came.

"One!" I yelled, my voice muffled by the lush fibers. "Two! Three! Four!"

Each slap of the tails stung the skin of my ass cheeks in such a pleasantly painful way I could hardly consider this punishment. Then again, the crime was rather ridiculous in the first place, so it evened out. Alternating right and left, he smacked my plump derriere in just the right spots and I felt my skin heat up under the force and my thighs tremble in response.

"Five! Six! Seven! Eight!" He kept going and going, until I counted to twenty-four, then the beatings finally ceased.

He interrogated me again. "How many chips have I eaten?"

"Twenty-four, Sir." I swallowed some spit threatening to fall from my panting mouth before it could hit the carpet.

"Repeat it," he commanded, hissing through gritted teeth.

"Twenty-four chips, Sir."

"That is correct. Will you remember now? May we continue with absolute certainty of your grade school counting abilities? Or do I need to make marks on your skin to keep tally?"

I held in the squeal as best I could. "No tally needed. I'll keep track, don't worry." I'd worry enough for the both of us.

"Beautiful. Please resume your position so we can get on with the show. Let's keep these interruptions at a minimum from here out, ok?"

Nodding, I swung back up to my pillow-assisted kneel, shaking and blowing the hair out of my eyes.

He reached over and touched my chin, turning my face toward him. He tucked the flyaways behind my ears and straightened my glasses, being the sweetheart he was.

"Look at me," he whispered, his blue eyes tender and loving. "You're being a very good girl. Mostly." We both smiled and shared a moment of deep connection as my heart swelled from his praise, and in those moments, I lived for it. This made all the pain and humiliation worth it. I'd suffer for him endlessly for only a morsel of love, and he knew it, and he loved it.

He resumed the show.

A blue-washed scene in the dead of night began with an ominous figure in a cowboy hat approaching an old, busted trailer with music blaring from the inside. The figure was none other than Rip Wheeler, my favorite character of the show. My mouth salivated as the camera followed his boots walking up the steps to the trailer and his black-gloved hand knocking on the door in a most imposing way. I grinned, hoping Jesse wouldn't notice my excitement. But perhaps he did, because just then, he requested another chip.

He raised his eyebrow as his mouth fell open, waiting.

I tugged against the restraints. What was I to do? I couldn't even pick them up anymore!

"C'mon, smarty-pants, you can do it," he said.

"Sir, will you please pause the show? I don't want to miss anything." He did and twiddled his thumbs above his crotch as he waited for me to serve him.

"Sir, I'm not sure how to do this. My hands are cuffed. What would you like me to do?"

"With your teeth. Use that smart-alicky mouth of yours for something useful, for a change."

My teeth? He pushed the chip bowl to the edge so I could reach in easier, and I dipped my face down into the chips and clumsily attempted to grab one with my teeth. It was harder than it looked. They kept shifting around and my nose got in the way. Nacho cheese dust covered my cheeks like blush and I felt like an utter fool. Finally, I got one lightly between my front teeth and presented it to him like a trained dog with a stick. We leaned into each other and his lips met mine for the first time that evening as we transferred the chip from sender to receiver. He chomped away contentedly, as if he'd done the hard job.

"I had faith in your oral skills. You should too, Invicta." He patted my head and resumed the show.

Just when Jimmy, the new guy on the ranch, opens the door to Rip, he gets tased and falls to the floor as Rip barges in unannounced. My blood boiled as I anticipated what came next; one of my all-time favorite scenes of the show.

My attention rapt, I felt a tap on my shoulder. He wanted another chip. Couldn't this wait?! I thought.

I quickly dove in for another, securing and offering it, with my eyes trained heavily on the screen.

"Ahem. Please look at me while you're in service."

Reluctantly, I did. He grabbed the chip and with it came a little kiss, but in my distracted state, I gained no pleasure from it.

"You're a two-time loser, Jimmy," Rip said, as the camera panned over the lanky, disheveled character struggling to meet his intruder's eyes. "One more felony, and they throw away the keys." Rip says Jimmy might do alright in prison, adding, "You got the lips for it." Jesse busted out laughing, and so did I. Rip's harassment was just up our alley, and I knew this scene would tickle Jesse's mean streak.

He tapped my shoulder again. I huffed, not wanting to peel my eyes from 'my man' on screen.

The air in the room electrified.

Just then, 'lil Jimmy found his balls. "You're either a servant or a king in this place, and I ain't no fucking servant." Then Rip mutters to himself, "No, no," as the camera pans down to a glowing orange branding iron heating over his propane stove's burner.

"Ooooh!" I let out, licking my lips and scrunching my face.

Jesse tapped me again. I ignored him again. Now he huffed, but I paid no heed.

Rip blows on the hot iron, as if that's supposed to do anything, and accuses Jimmy of being a thief. Jimmy, whose hands are tied, yells "What the fuck, man! Wait! Wait! Wait!" and falls over backward in his chair as the glowing "Y" of the brand, orange as a clementine, stretches out before Rip's ominous figure, heading straight for its victim.

My eyes glowed with the fire of the brand and, even in my rapture, I felt the heat of Jesse's eyes on me.

"Ahem." Jesse cleared his throat conspicuously, then tapped my shoulder again.

Rip casually tossed aside Jimmy's fallen chair, and the audience hears the sizzle of the blazing iron as it looms before its victim's desperate face. The next shot is one of Rip's dark presence hovering over Jimmy, his black jacket's collar popped, and black cowboy hat's brim folded way up on the sides, cutting a striking, foreboding silhouette.

Just then, the action paused, and the room went silent.

"Lady Invicta!" Jesse yelled. "May I have your attention, PLEASE?"

Suddenly the flogger falls appeared around my throat yet again, only this time, much too tightly. A shock of fear whipped through my veins and every hair stood to attention as the seconds passed like minutes, feeling my pulse struggle against the leather.

"Yes, Sir!" I gasped. "Too tight!"

He loosened it immediately, but only to a less dangerous level. He knew real breath play was a hard limit of mine and he never crossed that line.

"You have two options." He came close again, hissing into my left ear. "Serve me as you agreed to do, obey my commands, or get the fuck out of my house. When you serve me, you will NOT split your attention with another man, you got that? I won't be made a fool of in my own house! Which do you choose?"

My nipples hardened under the padding of my bra. I struggled for breath, even despite his loosening of the flogger tails. Between the callus depth of Jesse's voice and the aggressive, tense scene with Rip, my senses were stimulated to the max. I think I might've even peed a little.

It wasn't so much that I literally feared for my safety, but the combined effect these two men had on me as they each imposed their wills, god, it was just too much all at once! A strange lightning rod snapped through my body in an unrecognizable wave. It felt orgasmic, but not in the way I was used to; not the kind that started and ended between the legs, but a whole body crack of euphoria that came and went in a split second, leaving me shaken in the best of ways.

"Answer me." Jesse's voice was husky, malicious, and seductive. Like always, there really was no choice. Do as he said, or leave, and I knew I couldn't leave unless he physically shoved me out the door.

"I wish to serve," I whimpered with my last breath. His scruff brushed against my cheek as he kissed it lightly.

"Good choice." He hovered there, to my side, with his mouth parted, and nodded toward the bowl.

I bent down, fished around for another chip, and successfully landed it between his lips.

"Good girl. Don't make me compete for your attention again."

Man, I'm getting off light, I thought. He must be enjoying the scene too, as he resumed it right away.

Rip threatens to take Jimmy to the sheriff's office or prove that he deserves another chance. Jimmy pleads.

"Why would John Dutton give a shit about me?" Jimmy asks.

"He doesn't," Rip responds. The camera cuts in to Rip's black-leather-gloved hand, unsnapping his shirt to reveal his own "Y" brand on his chest, the symbol of the Dutton Yellowstone Ranch. "But he will."

Rip's next line takes the cake; "Now, you be a man about it. Don't scream."

The red-hot brand sears Jimmy's skin with the sizzle of a steak hitting the grill. Smoke wafts up as Jimmy's face endures the torturous pain.

The sound of burning flesh is forever stained on my cortex, and now upon Jesse's too. We looked at each other briefly, both of us half-smiling, half-grimacing, and knew a shared understanding beyond words.

We both nodded, and I saw the gears turning in his head.

Jimmy manages not to scream and Rip tosses him a tub of burn cream as he finally lifts the brand off his chest.

"You know where the ranch is?" He asks Jimmy. "You start Monday." And then he leaves.

Sooo good, I thought, shaking my head with satisfaction.

"You loved everything about that scene, didn't you?" Jesse asked, smiling.

"Umm Hmm." I nodded enthusiastically.

"Noted."

He never asked me for another chip the rest of the night.

As the show wore on, he loosened the restrictions, took off the handcuffs, and by the end, we were cuddling on the couch, my thigh-high covered legs tossed over his jean-clad thighs. He even let me kick off my heels.

"So, what's the tally?" He drew little infinity signs on the tops of my thighs as he waited.

"Tally?" My mind went blank. "Oh, the chips? Um... twenty-seven? I think?"

He threw his head back, laughing, and shook it in cheerful frustration.

"You're right, you're terrible with numbers. Twenty-six, darling, remember? You only fed me two by mouth before you got... distracted."

I sighed. Off again.

"You know, this whole time you haven't asked me if I'd like any water? As part of your service, you're supposed to anticipate my needs, remember?"

"I thought I was to remain silent?"

"Well, you clearly failed at that, too. But for the future, asking me if I'd like water is always acceptable under reasonable circumstances."

I shot him some mean side-eye. "From experience, what's reasonable to me isn't always reasonable to you, hence why I never asked."

"Look, you don't need to defend yourself, Invicta. Simply ask me if I'd like some water. It's not hard. These chips are salty, you know? My tongue," he stuck it out at me, "it's orange. Surely water is needed."

I sat up, resting my hands in my lap.

"Sir, may I get you some water?" I dipped my chin to look up at him humbly.

"Why yes, I'd love that, dear. You may rise."

I cat-walked over to the kitchen, swaying my hips to offer him a pleasant view as I fetched the libation. Choosing a shot glass from the cupboard, I filled it halfway with tap water from the sink and ambled back, offering it to him with the deepest bow I could manage because of tight hamstrings from kneeling.

"Your water, Sir." Good thing my face pointed at the floor, or he'd see my wicked smile!

Taking the shot glass from my hands, he rose from the couch. I slowly stood back up to meet his gaze, which trained on me viciously from far above.

He tossed the water in my face! Through wet glasses, I watched him storm into the kitchen and fill a pint glass with filtered water from the fridge and down it in one gulp. He slammed the glass on the counter. I jumped.

Stalking toward me slowly, he raked his bottom lip with his tongue, fists jabbed into his hips, as the tip of his blond ponytail fell over one heaving shoulder. He could've been a lion advancing on his prey.

"You think that was pretty funny, don't you?" He walked past me, burning holes in my eyes as he proceeded down the hallway and into his bedroom. I turned around, facing my back to the hall, attempting to compose myself.

"Very clever of you, I must say." His deep voice inched closer from behind me as my gaze glued to his kitchen cabinets and my chest collapsed on itself. My heart hammered against my ribs as his voice drew near, so close that his breath tickled the hair at the nape of my neck.