Eros and Psyche Ch. 01-03

CW: consensual non-consent with consent check-ins (so trigger warnings apply), with spanking, caning, anal, bondage, nipple pain, and physical and emotional masochism. All of my stories taken together make up a sexy interconnected universe, so Jess and James - two characters from the first chapter of the first story I published here - make a brief appearance in this story. The characters in this story, Vivek (wisdom) and Carys (love) are two of my favorite people.

It's a small part of this story, but it is very mildly anti-racist and has a protagonist that is a person-of-color. If that bothers you, I hope you choose to simply move on and not read my story instead of downvoting me and my stories.

I know mentioning this might upset some folks enough to downvote all of my stories without reading them again. In my past on Literotica, all of my stories were rated 4.75 - 4.86 until I revealed that I wasn't white and got mass, massive downvoting of ALL of my stories. This story is partially inspired by that experience. One of the stories in this story...about moving suburbs, grades, and standardized tests is my personal experience from growing up.

Chapter one

I thought that maybe I was just cursed to wander the Earth alone. I turned thirty-three a few weeks ago. My parents are Welsh and English, and I inherited their straight fair hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. I was small, about five-two, with an almost stereotypical English rose look, peaches and cream complexion and small features. I was an associate professor of Classics at a prestigious public university. I was gunning for tenure and I wanted to write books. People told me I was nice, sweet, polished, and of course, smart. I had almost everything going for me.

But. Friends say they were surprised that I hadn't found love. Never. My longest relationship was one year in college. And it wasn't that I couldn't get dates, I easily could, it was just that no one was ever quite right. I was too old to have never been in love, I thought, despairing. Maybe I was cursed.

With that last thought, I knew I needed to get out of my head and apartment. Thick loose sweater, professorial-looking herringbone pants, some boyish oxfords, and I head to a coffee shop.

The weather was so nice that day. The sun was finally shining, people, especially couples, were out and about. It was the kind of early spring day that makes it hard to stay pessimistic. When I think back, I'm pretty sure I was paying attention when I crossed the residential street, but I'm not sure. Anyway, out of nowhere comes this douche canoe Tesla, roaring inches from me. I startled and shrieked as it whizzed by, nearly clipping me. I swear it was less than a foot from me. Then it flipped a u-turn and parked across from me as I ran back across to the safety of the sidewalk.

"What the hell! Where did you come from? Are you okay? I didn't see you there, I'm so sorry..." A dude rushed out of the car and toward me. His face went from anger to anxious sadness.

Him. The then-anxious driver of the Tesla. When I looked up at him, I felt my world spin. The best I could describe it was that I felt like everything around me spun for a moment, and the world landed slightly off kilter. Something changed. I still don't know if it was the adrenaline, something about him, or both.

"I'm - I'm okay." I was pretty rattled, then relief washed over me. I nearly laughed. Maybe it was hysteria at such a close call.

"Would you like a hug? You look like you could use one. Or maybe I could use one. No pressure though." Maybe he was feeling hysterical too, because that suggestion was crazy but also felt right.

"Yeah. I was just about to get a coffee." He pulled me in and held me in a warm embrace. He smelled incredible, a sort of masculine scent that made me think of freshly cut wood with a faint hint of some sort of sweet spice. Close up, I thought his skin and eyes were even more beautiful. Hm. Clean cut Tesla drivers weren't at all my type. I wanted to snuggle into this one's arms. Now that was a crazy thought. This man nearly killed me, and I had just met him.

"Would it be alright if I bought that coffee for you? It's the least I could do."

"Yes. Do you need a coffee too?" I wanted to be near this dude. I wasn't sure why, as I acted on pure compulsion.

"After that experience, hell yeah. I'm Vivek, pronounced viv-ai-k." He held out a hand. His clothes were as sleek as his chiseled cheekbones and jawline were sharp.

"I'm Carys. It's Welsh. Pronounced ca-riss. It means love."

"It's beautiful. Vivek means wisdom. Wait for me here, I'll go park the stupid car that I'm afraid to drive and come get you. You were getting coffee nearby, yeah?" I internally agreed with him on the stupidity of his car.

"Yeah. Okay."

It wasn't the adrenaline. Coffee stretched into the type of conversation that has a lot of eye contact and laughter. You've probably already guessed that he was charming and erudite. He has to be. He was a techie who worked at a company that IPO'd, then he started his own company. This is tech-speak for: he has a small nest egg and has the confidence to speak to investors and manage people. And given all of that, I could already tell he was a very busy person who was preoccupied and almost obsessive about work. It also explained the car and the polished clothes, and the smooth nearly effortless way he turned a near-accident into something that was a near-date.

"Hey, Carys, I know this is a little weird, but would you be interested in going on a date?"

"I would," I smiled.

"Again, I'm sorry. But I don't regret meeting you. It feels like - I don't know."

I couldn't put my finger on it either, but I was happy.

Coffee led to a dinner date, which led to a hike, which led to more dinners and more and more time spent together. Finally, after about 6 dates over 6 weeks of hanging out, Vivek texted -

Carys, I want to talk to you about something. Privately. Maybe dinner at my place? You can see my place ;-)

Admittedly, I can be naive at times, but I knew what he meant. Sounds good :) When were you thinking?

So I went to his place on a Sunday evening. It was lovely: one of those classic California midcentury houses, with beautiful wood-paneled walls and walls of glass with gorgeous views of the city across the bay and hills. It was as sleek and stylish as he was. He had cooked up a small feast: a snack of spicy roasted chickpeas, rice, palak paneer (a spicy spinach dish with cubes of mild cheese), and a spiced cauliflower dish.

What floored me about it was how much effort he must have put into planning the meal, buying the groceries, and cooking all this food. He made three dishes just for us.

I squealed happily. "It all looks and smells so delicious. You put so much work into this. Thank you so much."

"I don't cook much these days, but my mom taught me because she wanted me to know a bit about my heritage. I'm glad you like it." he said, sounding uncharacteristically shy.

Like it? I loved it. It was all as delicious as it smelled. He was careful with the heat, but everything was perfectly spiced. The vegetables were just right, cooked through but not soggy.

After we ate, he served us some herbal masala chai - that's tea brewed with milk, sugar, and spices - and asked me if I wanted to cuddle on his sofa. When we got there, he spooned me from behind.

"You smell so good," I said. Even I noticed how breathy I sounded.

"Hmm, so do you." Then he tilted my face toward his face, and I turned toward him. He held my face, and came closer for a kiss. Our amazing, beautiful first kiss, actually. I pressed myself against him, tighter as it ended, wanting more.

"Carys, this is what I wanted to talk about," he murmured before kissing me again. "I have to tell you -" I could feel my cheeks turning pink, and I leaned in again. He kissed me again, this time reaching up and pinching my nipple. Any harder and I would have cried out. I was startled, but it also felt so good. "Carys -" We were both breathing pretty hard. "I want to, but we really should talk first." I turned around, so that I was facing him. I could see and feel his excitement. "You look so beautiful."

"Thank you." I smiled.

"So," he paused. Deep breath. "So, the thing is, I'm pretty kinky, and it's pretty important to me."

"Okay. Cool." I really wanted to make out some more.

"Carys, are you horny right now?"

"How could you tell?" It took every bit of self-control not to whine at him then.

"It's pretty obvious. And because you didn't care at all about what I said and wanted to keep making out. You're usually very thoughtful and attentive." He grabbed both of my wrists in one hand, and held my hands above my head before kissing me again. Then he laid me down on the couch, still holding my wrists, and kissed me again. "How does that feel, that I'm holding you down?" He pinched my nipple through my thin shirt again. How did he know just how much pressure? "Do you like that?"

"Yes. How do you know when to stop?" I whined.

"Because I can read your threshold on your face and in your little whimpers." Oh. I hadn't noticed the whimpers. "How would you feel if I tied you down? If I took some cuffs, tied your wrists and ankles to my bed, and had my way with you?" He pinched a little more firmly as he asked, and studied my face.

I felt the surge of warmth creep up through me. My face turned red, and I could feel the wetness between my legs. I looked up with a mixture of fear and excitement. "I - I've never done that before."

"But I think you're excited by the thought."

I nodded.

"Are you opening your legs for me because you need me to touch you, naughty girl?"

I blushed. I hadn't noticed that part of my reaction either. I turned red easily, and I could feel how warm I got then. "Yes."

"Look at you blushing. So sweet." He still held my wrists, but used his other hand to lift up my skirt. I squirmed under him. He reached up again, this time under my shirt, and pinched my other nipple through the thin lacy bra I wore. You know, just in case. "Hmm, a skirt and lace underneath. Did you dress up for this?"

"Yes." My hips, acting out of pure need and desire, pushed up toward him.

He leaned down, hand pushing against my lacy panties. He was so gorgeous, with those big eyes and those perfect cheekbones. His arousal, the woodsy, spiced scent grew stronger and hovered in the air around me. His expression betrayed nothing. He was studying me, intense and almost icy cold. I couldn't - it was just so much, he was so fucking sexy. "Say please."

Pure animalistic lust filled me. I felt hotter at how greedy I was for him, and how coolly he appraised me. I shivered and writhed with neediness under him with it. Before I could even think, I was replying to him. "Oh, please."

His hand reached between my folds, easily finding the hood of my clit before moving it and rubbing it gently. "You're so wet, and you're so ready, aren't you?" His voice, oh my god, it was just so cool and distant. It made me feel so slutty. He began to draw little circles around it, using two fingers, then teasing them down, stopping again just before penetrating me, then back to the circles.

"Yes, please -" I whined and arched under his teasing fingers, squirming helplessly as he held me down and pleasured me.

"You'll make a very good sub. I can imagine you begging me that way -" Then he flattened his hand against my clit, pushing past the soft inner lips, and pushed his fingers into me, searching until he found a spot I particularly liked. I rose under his hand, putting pressure on that spot.

"Yes, yes, please!" And he worked me, circling my clit and rubbing it as my moans turned into small cries and then finally penetrating me with his fingers again and rubbing that wonderful spot in the best way possible. "Oh my god, you're going to make me cum if you keep doing that..."

"Yeah? Are you? Show me what a naughty horny girl you are, and cum on my fingers." He was looking down at me.

And those words did it for me. He was making me feel hotter and hotter, my face turning red with fiery pleasure. My muscles tightened on his fingers. I cried out as I felt myself cumming for him, squeezing my eyes shut and letting the waves of pleasure flow through me.

He released my wrists as I laid back, beautifully spent in the best way possible. Then he pulled down my panties, just a few inches, and flattened his tongue against me and lapped up all the cum I had poured for him. I moaned and surged toward him, but he pulled my panties back up and smoothed my skirt down. Then he slowly, lasciviously licked the two fingers he had touched me with, before lifting me onto his lap. The only signs I had of his desire were the tightness of his arms holding me in a stronghold, and the length of him pushed against my ass

"What a sweet dessert." The cool distance in his tone made me tremble with heated arousal. "So Carys, before you got so horny that you couldn't have a conversation," I closed my eyes and trembled " - well, that worked out well. You responded to the little gentle ways I was dominating you. Now, I want you to take off your clothes and sit down across from me, and I'll ask you some questions."

I was on autopilot, so fucking horny and wanting him so badly that I obeyed without a second thought. I stood up as he released me, and stripped off the sweater and skirt. Then the pale icy blue lacy bra and panties. He eyed my figure with care and appraisal, and the way he studied me told me he liked what he saw.

"Now sit down, on your knees, and open your legs for me." I flushed again, red at the thought of how hard my smallish pink nipples were, and because I was dripping onto his sofa.

"Good girl." A lovely, warm feeling flowed through me, and I smiled at him.

"Do you like being a good girl for me?"

"Yes, I don't understand why it felt so good when you said that." I knew I liked him a lot and felt very comfortable around him, but my candor still felt surprisingly easy.

"Hm. You're so naturally submissive. It feels good because you're enjoying submitting to me, the way you've obeyed me tonight, and you want praise for doing so. You've never done anything like this before?"

"No. How are you so calm? Aren't you...turned on too?"

"I like control, Carys. That's what I meant when I said I was kinky. In the sex parts of a relationship, of course. And with your consent and full awareness. Not with the manipulation and harm to you that an abuser would use. And with control, whereas an abuser is out of control. For this type of pleasure that you're clearly enjoying. I can see how wet you're making my sofa." His gaze focused between my legs, where I was dripping with the thought of being controlled.

"Would you like it if I called you a slut? Because you're drenched right now." I shifted on my folded knees, opening my thighs wider for him. "Well, your body and horny pussy answered for you. I had this idea. And it's a pretty wild one. You know how we haven't been able to hang out too much, because the startup is keeping me busy?" I nodded. "Well, once we finish raising this round, I'll have more time. Three weeks. In that time, I'd like to train you to be a very good, pleasing submissive. If you please me, I'll fuck you."

"What - what will I have to do?"

"I'll send you things to read and videos to watch at home. I want to train you to take a throat fucking and suck cock like the slut you're aching to be, for example. This means watching the videos, and taking dildos down your throat. You'll come here two nights a week, Mondays and Wednesdays, and I'll leave you written instructions. I'll be in my home office, here, those nights, and you'll be here, outside of the office. I'll set up old school camcorders to make sure you finish your lesson. And you'll only orgasm when I tell you it's okay for you to orgasm or touch yourself."

"A guy I dated for a couple months said I was submissive, too, and that it wasn't his thing. How do you know? What am I doing?"

"You like it when I take control, I get the impression that you're drawn to me when I do. When I met you, you relaxed when I took charge of getting coffee with you. Even when it's something like...I tell you to pick the restaurant. And tonight, when I was telling you what to do, when I was calm, cold, controlled...you're responding to that. Sexually. You didn't answer my question. Do you want to be trained to be a slutty submissive for me?"

I thought about that. About being alone in this lovely house, maybe naked, while sucking a fake cock while he recorded it. I imagined him watching me after, getting hard and maybe touching himself...it was one of the hottest things I could imagine myself doing. And the thought of arousing him with it...I sighed, because I could feel myself making an even bigger mess of his sofa.

"And I'll learn about what kinky and submissive mean, in more detail, through this training?"

"You will."

"Yes. I want to do it."

Chapter two

Unlike Psyche, I did not betray my future lover when my loyalty to him was tested. I stood steadfast as ever. However, he still put me through many trials through the course of our training.

The loyalty test came when I told my sister about Vivek. I had never told her about any of my previous boyfriends. And I probably wouldn't have told her about Vivek if I didn't believe the relationship felt more real than any prior, and if I wasn't worried about having to tell our parents someday.

"Um, you know they won't be happy. They have friends who are South Asians, but they don't want one of their daughters to be with one."

"Yes, I know. What do you think I should do?"

"It'll be hard to be with him if you visit family, you know."

"Yes. But I don't want to end the relationship because our parents and family won't be happy because his parents came from India." I framed it that way to emphasize that he was as American as I was.

"It's still early. Are you sure you want to take that on? Are you sure he's not misogynistic or has some weird beliefs about women from his family?"

I sighed. I'd never be able to tell her about, um, the things I was agreeing to with him. We didn't have that type of relationship, but after hearing that opinion, I'd have to be very careful. "Rhiannon, from what I know about him, he's not at all like that. I know I have to get to know him better, but I don't think he sees me in any way as his inferior."

"What if he's just playing around with you, and dumps you to get married to some girl in India when he's done?"

It took a lot, and I mean a Herculean amount of self-control not to hurl the phone across the room and scream that she was being racist. All of my life, I had been the typical good girl. Quiet, obedient, studious with the grades and now the degrees and career to prove it. It was nice, and I had a pleasant life. But now, with him, I felt alive. I felt happy. At that moment, I felt angry, rebellious, and protective of him and our new relationship.

"If he was going to do that, I doubt he'd wait until he was in his thirties. Also, he's American and I doubt he's going to go to a country he's never lived in to find a bride. I also doubt he'd put as much time into our relationship as he's putting in, especially considering that his startup is at some crucial stage."

I sighed. He probably had to live with that type of covert racism around him at all times. I'd never experienced it in this way. And it hurt me when it was directed at someone I cared about, forget how much it must hurt him when it was directed at him personally.

"Why are you so sure you want to date him? It's only been about two months, right?"

"What I am sure about is that I don't want to dump him because of racism." I rarely spoke so sharply. I could hear the surprise in her voice.