Fade to Blink - A Quantum Date Ch. 03

Of course, if there were questions about my personal life, I figure Hodgson was already on top of that through the bugs...and Marybeth. Except, we weren't certain about the bugs any more. Last night something might have changed again. It was getting confusing.

We'd been out. Just a beer and hamburger at the neighborhood dive. It had been a tough day at work: nothing I'd submitted passed the smoke tests and, while I'd been sure it would all get fixed the next day, I was exhausted and pissed. Jimmie wasn't too happy either. He'd just gotten the news that one of his best guys was giving notice. We'd come back to his place, and per usual he swept the place for bugs while I stripped off.

He came back, his face puzzled, staring at me, eyes burning into me, scanning me, making me feel even more naked than I already was. I shivered from that look, my arms wanting to hug around me to cover my breasts. He looked...hungry. I resisted the urge and stood there, seeing his head shaking slightly, realizing he hadn't found any and wondering what it meant that they were gone

"Nothing," he whispered in my ear, running his hands down my breasts, sending sparks into my gut. "I'm not sure I believe it though. They could have changed frequencies."

"But, didn't you check for that?" I whispered back, desperate to know we could stop the spy games.

He pulled back, nodding slightly, his mouth twisted in a tight grin, his eyes looking around. And then his expression changed and I wasn't sure what it meant until he put his lips to my ear.

"Let's pretend they're still listening for a few days, k?"

I hesitated. "Really?" I responded in a whisper, seeing his determination. He really was getting off on having me perform. "Okay." I agreed reluctantly. Knowing Marybeth was rubbing one out to our escapades only eased my performance anxiety a little bit; cuz, frankly I didn't know if she really was listening. And I sure as fuck didn't know if she was the only one listening. But in spite of finding a tiny escape hatch in Marybeth as my audience, I was still barely keeping from gibbering at the idea I was performing at all.

"Let's get you in your collar, Annie." He said it as if it was a normal sentence. Like, sure, I always come in and put on a collar. But his words were Pavlovian: the orange blob erupted from my gut when just a few moments earlier it has been quietly stewing somewhere above my pelvis. Lately, it seemed to be always around, settling in my gut, a constant companion.

I had forgotten a time when I hadn't felt the orange blob, like a smog smeared all through me, even after he would let me climax, which, since the Great Orgasm, was happening more often than not. But, even as he'd let me cum, he would start in again, rekindling the blob so that it was ever-present: at home in the shower, at work sitting at my computer. He had kept me constantly aroused. Constantly. And at his place, even as I approached his building I could feel it expanding, thickening, until I would get to his door. It would blossom up from my gut, envelope my spine and, on really bad nights it would flare up red, embrace my breasts and head and drip down yellow, my pussy sopping before I crossed his threshold. Those nights it would be so thick I'd lose myself in it. And somehow he knew; he knew how far he could take me, how much I would beg for release. The thicker the orange fog, the more I needed to clear it, my climax like mounting a summit, until, at the top, it crested, blowing the fog away. Until the next time.

I dropped to my hands and knees and waited for him to wrap the collar around my neck and snap on the leash, knowing it would make him hard.

"That's a good girl, Annie," he petted me behind my shoulders, running his fingers down my spine. I arched my ass up, hoping he'd stroke me, lifting my head to offer my mouth. "When was the last time you came, girl?"

I looked at him and shook my head. Once again, I knew it didn't matter what I answered, even if I was keeping track. Which, I was. Of course I was. Every time he brought me close I couldn't predict if he'd let go over or keep me on edge. It had been that way for weeks. Since the Great Orgasm. Earlier than that, Annie! I realized it had been that way since that first night back in June, when we'd given Marybeth and whomever else the performance, when he'd found the two bugs. But if I said, 'Yesterday,' which was the truth in this case, or 'not since last week,' it didn't seem to matter. He would do whatever he was going to do.

And, probably because he knew it tormented me, that would mean teasing me until I begged him. He would bring me to the brink and then hold me there, sometimes pulling out and walking away, leaving me gaping open, drooling from my cunt, whimpering. And then he'd come back, push into me and whisper how much he wanted to hear me, how much he wanted them to hear me.

In spite of my (tiny) happy place, knowing Marybeth was listening, it wasn't nearly enough to get me used to hearing myself begging him knowing others were recording it, poring over the transcripts, fuck, jacking off in the bathrooms...or wherever. I had started thinking being stripped in front of strangers would have been better, not that I'd ever let Jimmie know that! I hated it. And he knew I hated it. And every time I'd protest...quietly hissing so the bugs couldn't hear. And every time he'd acknowledge me in a generic way, waving his hands to the room, and remind me what word I needed to say to make it stop. But I wouldn't. I...would clench instead and feel his cock invading me, and I'd melt and let him fuck me, cursing as he shoved into me, begging him to let me cum.

But now, even with the bugs probably gone, he didn't want to let up. That expression he'd had on his face just moments before, I realized it was him moving us deeper into this co-dependent relationship. He was going to make me perform again, whether they were listening and his detectors weren't working, or simply to prove I had further to go, to become more submissive.

"When, Annie?"

I shook my head again, totally complicit, totally bought in. You want this. I knew from the start what he'd been doing, but I had been curious how far he would take it. And then, with each new step, I'd just look at myself and...I'd let him. All I had to do was say the word, but the more he raised the stakes, the more he infantilized me, called me his pet, his bitch in heat, the more I craved it.

"Yesterday," I whispered, pushing my ass up further, offering him my open cunt, inviting him to play with me. It was almost becoming automatic, my body responding to him. But even as my body was cooperating, my thoughts drifted back a couple of weeks earlier, the night he'd pushed me to this next level; the night he'd taken me to the collar. And more.

Mid-July 32

"God no Jimmie! No!" I was kneeling on his bed, my face against a pillow, my hands pulling my ass cheeks apart, just as he'd directed me, just like the good little pet I'd become. I didn't know where he had been heading, but I figured it was going to happen at some point. Not the dog tail! I didn't figure on that! Just that he'd want to play with my rear entrance. I'd learned that it comes to a point with boys when it's the next hole they need to penetrate. But I hadn't counted on him pushing something like that into me.

"Shhh, Annie. You've been such a good girl. Such a good pet. Shhh."

His fingers stroked between my spread cheeks, caressing the tight skin around my hole. And then I felt a glop of cold lube and I moaned. "Please, Jimmie," I begged him quietly. "Don't hurt me."

His hand came into view, holding something I couldn't make out. It was black and white, and stubby, not so big, but it didn't make any sense. And then he unrolled his hand and I could see the butt plug. It looked big. "I think this should go in okay, Annie. Just relax."

I moaned, waiting for him to do it. And then I felt the tip against my sphincter and before I could react, it was in. It burned for a second, and then, it was seated inside my rectum, the fuzz of the tail against my buns.

He patted my cheeks. "You can let go now, pet. C'mon, let's give it a try."

I pushed my hands against the bed and sat up, tears blurring my vision, watching him present something to me. I wiped my face and saw a collar and leash moments before his hands went to my neck. I gasped at where he was taking this. I'd had boys play with my ass before. I'd been letting Jimmie have his way infantilizing me. But this was way outside anything I'd done before. The orange smear concentrated in my gut, the echo of the burn from the plug pushing it against my organs. Never gone completely, just painted against the inside of my skin, another layer of orange film building up.

My anxiety spiral was interrupted as he pulled me gently forward by the leash, expecting me to crawl off the bed down to the floor. As I moved my legs down, the plug stretched my asshole and I gasped, until both knees were on the carpet. "Jesus, Jimmie," I exhaled, not sure why I was doing this, not sure why I was getting so turned on by it.

Mid-August 32

I hadn't been back to my apartment in, like, five days. We'd gotten into a routine, and I'd wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, wondering where I was, what I was doing. I'd given into his...kinks...but now I couldn't keep calling them his. They were apparently mine now, too. I laid there awake, the idea that I'd become his pet cycling over and over. I'm his pet!!! Every day, since he put the collar on me, since he had me wearing a tail, I'd given into the role, a little bit more every day. I'd walk through the apartment door, and everything I believed in: strong women, independence, making up my own mind, it would just go dark with the click of the latch. It had been several weeks since the bugs were gone, after he'd checked and checked. There were times, when we were making out and he'd stop kissing me, his hands on my shoulders his face staring at mine, his expression so...I'd been seeing it for weeks and I'd had no idea what it was. I'd never been with someone who looked at me that way.

I had to know. "Jimmie," I had asked him at least a couple of times. "Do...you, do you...love me?" I was shivering from anxiety anticipating the answer. Either way I didn't know what to do with it.

He would stop whatever he'd been doing and stare at me, thinking. Those first couple of times he just shook his head, but finally, one night he told me. "Yeah," he said quietly, "I think I fucking do, Annie. I think that's what this is." And he kissed me hard and we made love that night. Tender. Sweet. Still fucking kinky as hell. I knew that wasn't going to end. But so soft and so sweet.

Tonight, I saw that expression as he slowly pushed me down onto the floor and attached my leash, walking me to the box where he kept the tails. More of them had showed up, but his favorite was the Dalmatian. I opened my cheeks for him, expecting the dollop of lube and felt the plug push through the slime until it was seated. He left me, detouring to the bathroom before dropping his clothes in the bedroom.

Then he had led me to my rug. My. Rug. An oversized dog bed, lined with a blanket, fleece. It was comfortable: soft and cushiony. I mentally shook my head at how easily I had accepted the idea. My rug. When did that happen? I suddenly remembered the dream I'd told Marybeth, the shock of feeling the soft, cottony fabric overlaying the memory of walking through that house. I shook my head for reals and lay down, watching his ass cheeks as he got something from the kitchen, the muscles clenching in one and then the other.

And, while he was gone, while I was trying to recall when he'd first made me lie down on this bed, I flickered. When I recovered, he still hadn't come back, which seemed about right. It was the fifth...or sixth...time since that first one back in July. Two while I was at home, one in the bathroom at work, and one on the train. That one freaked me out for reals. Not that I was calm exactly for any of the others, but that one was the worst...because of all the people. How the guy next to me could have missed it. Fuck people and their screens! I mean, literally the woman sitting next to you disappears for seven seconds and you don't even notice. I had glanced at the reflection on the window over my shoulder, and thankfully nobody was in the seat behind me. But seriously, fuck!

I hadn't told Jimmie about any of them. I'm not sure why. I knew it would change things and I wasn't ready for whatever that was. Hah! You're willing to be his pet bitch, but you're concerned about the flickering? I knew I'd have to do it sometime. But not tonight. I was feeling too anxious, too keyed up. In spite of it almost becoming routine, the tail made me self-conscious even as I melted at the idea he was in love with me. I felt my asshole clench, seeing him coming back into the room, his left hand holding something I couldn't quite make out, his penis semi-erect. I knew something was up. He was acting like he wanted to play with me. My cunt loosened at the thought.

"On all fours, Annie."

He said it softly, as he knelt down next to me, his cock already hardening, whatever he had been holding still out of sight. I looked up at him, saw the need on his face and raised my eyebrows, wondering what he had in mind. I hadn't needed to bother, he made it obvious as he positioned himself, on his knees in front of my face, his cock poking up at 45 degrees.

I leaned forward and licked from his balls up to the tip of his head, pausing to lick his hole, and then laved down the side of his shaft to start the circuit over again. I loved how he moaned when I teased him, how his hands rubbed my shoulders down my back and across my ribs, moving to my abs before gently pulling up on my breasts, his hands making their own circle around my body. He paused at my nipples, tweaking slightly when I didn't take his cock into my mouth, signaling he was growing impatient. I smiled, ignoring the consequences, the sting from my nipples shooting fireworks up into eyes and down to my cunt. My cunt. Even though it came easier after a couple of months, it still didn't feel natural. Cunt. I'd always thought it was so crude, so pornographic. I grunted at my thought. Hah! As if! What else is this but porn? What else could my quim be at this point?

He shifted, his cock pointing toward my mouth, his expectations obvious, but I still wasn't ready to give him what he wanted. I pursed my lips and sucked on the underside of his shaft, moving down toward his sack, my thoughts still fixated on how far he had groomed me. I had given up my independence, I had agreed to be his pet. If I hadn't been absolutely certain that he loved me, I would have left months ago, but I knew that he craved this, needed me this way, and, apparently, it wasn't that hard for me to give this to him. It was worth it.

"OUUCHHHH!" The sting of his hand on my cheeks flashed a bright yellow-white color behind my eyes, wiping my thoughts.

"You're. Not. Here. Annie." Four slaps to go with the words.

I could feel tears starting, the slaps' echoes radiating up my spine, my cunt clenching, my asshole clenching, the tail resisting my muscles, his cock pushing at my lips. I reached my mouth over the top of his head and slid down, lowering as far as I could in this position. His left palm rested lightly on the back of my head, holding me on his cock as he leaned over me. I whimpered, thinking he was going to spank me again, the pain still radiating through me, but his hand lightly stroked my hair, signaling not to worry. A moment later, I felt a coolness against my cunt lips, something solid, smooth, with bumps. He slid it into me. Not another vegetable!

Slowly he inched whatever it was into me, my cunt opening around it, my lips catching for a moment, pinched against its flesh. I squeaked, my tongue flailing against his cock, my asshole clenched against the tail, and he pulled it out slightly, moving his hand from my head, down to between my legs to help unpeel me. His position shifted forward, his cock angling down, letting me curl my neck to accommodate more of it, even as he slowly moved the vegetable further into me. It kept growing as he pushed, and I couldn't imagine what it could be, until my lips were spread thin, the plug pushing against the interior wall, the tip of the invader just barely touching my cervix, its coolness stark against my own heat. I flashed back to the fitting, as I had been thinking of it, when he'd measured me with the cucumber. I breathed out against his cock, on edge, anticipating, waiting for him to push whatever-it-was into me. Any further and I would have started cramping, but he held steady, keeping me spit roasted in all of my holes, my eyes tear-filled, Jimmie's pubic hair tickling my nose, my body pinned. If he didn't move, I'd be okay.

And then he started to move.

Some part of me pulled away, and I freaked for a second thinking I was flickering again. But it was different: I was watching the scene from across the room, seeing me impaled three ways, the sensations from him slowly penetrating all of my holes stoking the orange blog into a yellow-white flame. Well, Jimmie, you've pushed me into something new...again. I'd never experienced seeing myself as I was feeling being fucked. The yellow-orange blob intensified: my nipples burned, my ass cheeks stinging still, my clit swelled, tears seeped from my closed eyes, his cock pushed deep into my mouth, my lips against his pubic hair, his wrist rubbing the dog tail as he moved whatever the fuck he'd shoved into my cunt. I could feel my climax building, my eyes watering, my grunts getting louder against his shaft and then I felt him stiffen and he did something with the vegetable, and, as his cum shot into my throat, my own juices exploded out of me. I lost consciousness again.

*-*-*-*

I drifted back to his living room, moaning, collapsed on the floor, the taste of him in my mouth, moisture on my cheeks, the tail pushing into my ass. Whatever he'd fucked me with was out, my cunt empty, my thighs sticky with cum. I blinked the moisture from my eyes and lifted my head. He was sitting cross-legged in front of me, half on the rug, half on the carpet; his hand reached over and petted my head.

"You are so beautiful, Annie. I can't believe you're here, that you're willing to do this."

I bent my neck up to look at his face, groaning as I pushed up onto my forearms, seeing that expression again. I smiled weakly and nodded. "Neither can I, Jimmie. I can't believe it either." But here I was, and I wasn't unhappy. Hah! You're totally happy. And it was true, I realized. I had moved beyond playing games with him: I was accepting, becoming, this new part of me, this new...me.

Mid-September 32

I'd let myself in to Jimmie's apartment, still feeling self-conscious about having a key and being there without him, but that was how far we'd come. Closing the door, setting my purse down on the side table, I was half-way through unbuttoning my blouse when I stopped myself, again, for the umpteenth time. What the fuck are you doing? I tried to remember the feeling, back at the end of summer when I had accepted what we were doing. That had been so easy. I hmphed, my fingers frozen on the bottom button, the desire to strip myself naked competing with the remnants of the fight we'd had just a few weeks before.. But feeling my insides melting, the orange goo flowing into yellow, my vag lubricating, I wanted to feel the plug in me. I wanted to greet him on all fours. You are such a freak! At the same time, I felt the rage from having a trust broken, of what he'd hidden from me. I shook my head to clear those thoughts. No. I like this. I want this. I closed my eyes, a tear seeping onto my face, the sexual need overwhelming the memory of my anger.