Faint Heart Never Won Fair Lady

With all the control he could muster he allowed her to use him, fought his involuntary muscle contractions, held back as she pleasured herself on him and rode him mercilessly. He felt her sex tightening, clenching on his shaft. He watched as she leant back, eyes closed, fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs. He felt her clenching him tighter, harder, until he heard her long, shuddering, exultant moan.

In the quiet confine of his den, his body tensed beyond endurance, he felt the first contraction as his semen began to pump.

*******

The next day, Jack was not functioning well.

"Does he seem alright to you?" Margaret whispered into the 'phone. She was one of the paralegals, and she was talking to Jane, Jack's secretary.

"Yeah, really. Totally spaced-out. He came by for a discovery, I gave it to him, and he just came by for it again. That's not like him, Janey, he's out of it! Ask him if he's OK."

'Out of it' hardly described Jack's state of mind. He had no idea what he'd just read but he knew he'd read it at least three times. Yesterday evening's fantasy still danced around the edges of his consciousness and he just couldn't make it go away. But every time he tried to put it on his mental dissecting table, its allure captured him again.

"Dammit!" Kicking his desk seemed a reasonable response. He certainly didn't have a plan.

"Mr. Bateman?"

"Oh, um, hi Janey..."

"There's a call for you on your line. Is there anything I can get you?"

His 'phone had rung? He stared at the blinking red light. Apparently it had. His obvious confusion decided Janey.

"Look, I'll tell her you're sick and then maybe you should go home. Do you want me to call a taxi?"

Her?

"No, Janey I'll take this one, thank you. And no taxi; I'm fine, um, thank you. I may leave the office after the call. Clear my schedule, would you? And call me on my cell 'phone if you need to."

She hesitated, then left. He watched the door close softly. Then he took a breath and picked up the line.

"Hi Jack. How are you?"

It was her. All rational thought flew merrily out the window and down the city street, chasing imaginary butterflies. Like the ones flittering around in his stomach.

"Jack?"

"Hi, Christine." He hoped his breathing didn't sound as ragged to her as it did to him.

"You alone?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sore today?"

Jack's brain finally snapped into gear. It was a loaded question. He usually handled those well.

"It normally takes a couple of days for stiffness to set in."

He closed his eyes as soon as he'd said it. Oh damn. Besides sounding pompous, he'd managed to allude to yesterday's erection. He braced himself for the obvious.

She was gracious. There was only the slightest pause, during which he imagined she was smiling. No, he knew she was smiling; and he was blushing.

"It's called Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness."

"Oh, I never knew that." The relief was evident in his tone, he knew.

"Yes. DOMS, for short."

Oh no.

"Not to be confused with people who play domination games, of course. You know about those, Jack?"

He was not going to lose it. He was not going to...

"What the hell's going on Christine? You walk out of my life, then turn up one day and play me like a puppet! What the fuck are you doing?" He'd lost it.

"Ssssh, Jack. Don't be scared. You were beautiful yesterday. I loved how you looked. And how you responded; oh, you were so, so beautiful."

He felt like he was going to cry.

"Jack?"

"Yeah."

"I want you. I want you helpless, I want you bound, I want you hard and I want you inside me."

He had no chance of hiding his gasp. It didn't even matter, anymore.

"I want you to give me what you could not before. I want you to submit to me, Jack. Do you have Helen's number?"

Helen? He knew someone called Helen? Who the hell... Oh, Helen! His eyes popped. Of course! Helen would never have walked off mid-press with a fully weighted bar hanging over his neck if she hadn't...

"You and Helen set that up?"

"You have questions? Then Helen's the lady to speak to. I've found her very, very helpful, these past nine months. Call me after you've talked to her. 'Bye."

He listened a long time to the flat tone in his ear. It took him a long time to replace the handset. He walked out of the office like a sleepwalker. But once he got in his car, he had it together. Oh yes, he had questions. "I want you helpless, I want you bound..." He was looking for Helen like his life depended on it; because, today, Jack was a drowning man.

He called Helen from his car, as soon as he was on the highway. For once, he drove like everyone else and ignored the speed limit.

While he waited for Helen to pick up he realized he knew very little about her. Quiet, controlled, attentive; she was all the things he liked but he had never really talked to her. He had come to trust her implicitly when working out with her. Now he wondered who the hell had been spotting him for the last nine months. That's right. She had become his spotter shortly after Christine had left. She'd never mentioned Christine, never asked about her. Another thing he had liked about her. He snarled as he changed lanes. A horn blared behind him. She'd never asked because she hadn't needed to. And he had thought it was out of respect.

"Hello?"

"Jack."

"Hi, Jack. I think you want to meet?"

"Oh yes, lady. At least, that's what Christine calls you." The engine was roaring as he burned up the highway.

"Road rage is a killer, Jack. Slow down."

His rational brain took a cool look at its rampant counterpart and decided enough was enough. Jack found a space in the center lane, took a deep breath, exhaled through his mouth, and relaxed.

"You're an astute woman, Helen. It seems I may have underestimated you. Want to tell me what's going on?"

"Are you willing to hear it? Some of it may be difficult for you. If the answer is 'yes', then I'm prepared to help you. But I want an assurance from you, first."

"Which is?"

"That you will listen to me with respect and an open mind. You're going to need both, if you're going to get through this with any understanding."

Helen's tone was edged with sympathy; it was balm to his roller coasting ego.

"Helen, I promise you I will listen. And I will appreciate any help you can give me because I really don't understand this. I don't even know what 'this' is. So I don't know about the respect. I'll try on the open mind part. Ok?"

"Good enough. Meet me at the cafe around the corner from the gym. I'll be waiting for you."

*******

He'd never seen Helen in anything but her workout gear, which wasn't extraordinary in any way. As he walked around the corner from his parked car he spotted her sitting at one of the café's outdoor tables and his mental faculties came to a sudden halt.

She was ignoring an ogling youth who was trying to catch her eye as he walked by. Jack could see the attraction. Her long, dark brown hair was loose, falling in layers around her bare shoulders. Her breasts were encased in studded black leather, save where the halter top's plunging neckline allowed them to bulge gloriously. She wore a matching short, studded, black leather skirt over fishnet stockings. But the best, for him, were the spike heeled, thigh length, black leather boots. As he joined her, he was acutely aware of the incongruous contrast of his wing tips, tailored suit and classic white shirt. He'd had the presence of mind to leave his tie in the car, at least.

She was totally unselfconscious, calm and collected. Strangely, now that he was with her, so was he. He kept his eyes on her as he gave the waiter his order. No, perhaps later for the menu. Thank you.

He could hear the steam from the espresso machine inside the café, the traffic sliding by, the clopping and clicking of footsteps on the sidewalk. In his inner space, all was quiet.

"She gave you quite a shock, didn't she?"

"Yes, she did. But I shocked myself more."

"You liked it."

"Yes. Look, I wasn't kidding. I don't understand what this is about."

"Jack, have you ever considered Christine may be a woman?"

Thankfully the waiter's appearance with his cappuccino saved him from making his retort. Instead, he considered the question as he stirred in a little sugar.

"Ok, I missed something, obviously. Help me."

"She felt like a trophy; something untouchable, for you to display."

"I was proud of her, Helen." He felt miserable, suddenly. He knew the truth of it.

"I don't doubt you were. But what you were proud of was not Christine; it was what Christine presented to you, for your world. Not your fault, Jack. You weren't to know."

"I'm listening."

"Do you know what your kind of lady is, Jack? Your kind of lady is a woman living in a straightjacket. Your kind of lady is presentable. She's nice, polite, and she doesn't speak out of turn. You can take your kind of lady anywhere. That's what Christine wanted to be for you. And she was, wasn't she? She was your nice, presentable lady."

There was a lump in his throat and it was getting bigger. He was staring at his coffee, hurting. He hadn't allowed himself to feel hurt in a long while; certainly not when Christine left.

"So that's what this is about." He sighed. At least now he understood that much. Through moist eyes, he looked across the street at nothing in particular.

"Who was she, Helen? Did I know her at all?"

"As much as she knew herself. When she came to me, she was confused, bruised, and blaming you. She said you'd never let her speak. I asked her what she had tried to say. I asked when you'd gagged her. She got mad atme then." Helen smiled. "It took her a while to see it. But she agrees, now, she had expected you to be responsible for her happiness."

"I think we both expected that of me. I did gag her, in a way. I decided what made her happy. I didn't want to hear anything that didn't fit how I thought it should be. I gave her a role, and I didn't give her an out; even when it wasn't working. And then when it drove her crazy, I backed away. I didn't know what else to do."

"You had the house, the biggest income, and the most to offer in your world. What more could you have given her? Why couldn't she just hold up her side of the bargain, hmm?" Helen chuckled, not without sympathy.

"You were both lost. It happens, Jack. It's the old saying, 'be careful what you wish for, you just might get it!' But you're luckier than most. You've got a second chance. You do want it, don't you?"

"Yes!"

He looked in Helen's soft brown eyes. He had somehow missed their intelligence, up until now. He really had underestimated her. She was smiling at him over the rim of her coffee cup.

"What does she need? What can I give her?"

"I think she's told you what she needs, hasn't she?!" Helen laughed. "And, judging by what she's told me, I think you need it as well! Hey, chin up! You're going to have some fun!"

"And with the woman you love, too," she added, softly.

It was a balmy, early summer day and the sky was clear. They talked over a long lunch. After lunch, they continued their conversation as they crossed the street and strolled together in a nearby park. And it was in that park, having questioned, listened, and considered well, that Jack came to his decision.

"You know, when I was a kid I had this fantasy. I would fall in love one day and achieve complete atonement with one, special woman. At-one-ment. Sort of like a Vulcan mind meld. That love would be so deep, I wouldn't have to say anything, she wouldn't have to tell me anything, we'd both understand each other completely. Always. Then I grew up a bit and told myself that wasn't possible. I caught glimpses of it, sometimes."

"Let me guess; with Christine, when she was turned on."

He turned to face her. There wasn't anything he couldn't say to her now.

"Well, yes, but no. Most times it was a self-congratulatory experience. You know, like, 'look at her writhing; what a great stud I am'.

Helen smiled. "That was when you were in control."

"Right; that was great, but it wasn't my fantasy."

They continued their pace. Helen didn't speak; she gave Jack space to work through it. He was thinking hard.

"She couldn't tell me what she wanted. It suited me, I guess. I didn't help her. You did, though. Christ! I never heard her say anything like what she said on the 'phone to me today! But she was always passionate, her body was right there. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, I do. Christine is a sexual being. As are you, Jack."

That stopped him in his tracks. Nobody had ever called him that before. Not even close. He grinned at Helen as she took his arm and they strolled on.

A young couple on a nearby bench stared at the clean-cut guy in the expensive suit and the woman in the leather gear. The girl giggled and whispered to her boyfriend. Jack didn't care. If they'd been the senior partners, he wouldn't have cared. They could all go to hell.

"Well, a body like that, you'd have to be really obtuse not to be able to read it. There were times I could let go of the ego trip. It was different then. Oh, yeah. The times I felt closest to Christine was when..."

He stopped walking. His shoulders sagged, his head bowed.

"When, Jack?"

"When it was for her, not me." His whisper ended with a choked sob, and he accepted Helen's embrace. "I want her back, Helen."

"Even if it's just for one day?"

"Oh God."

"She has some issues, too, you know. You can't make demands here."

He pulled himself upright, blinked up to the clear sky, swallowed, and looked down into Helen's eyes. He had decided.

"Even if it's just for one day," he said quietly.

Helen smiled, wiped away his tears and stroked his hair. "You, my friend, are a wise man."

She led him back towards his car. "You are going to call Christine this evening. Start thinking now about what you want to say. When she is ready, you and Christine are going to meet at my place and you and she are going to have your atonement. I promise. A good Domme always keeps her promises, you know."

Jack smiled. "And you're a good Domme, aren't you Helen?"

"You bet your sweet, spanked ass I am."

*******

Later that evening, when Jack was at home, he called Christine.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Christine. It's Jack. May I speak with you?"

"Yes, Jack?" She sounded nervous. Somehow, he wasn't.

"Helen and I had a long talk today. You're right, she's wonderful. I'm glad you found her. Well, I know you want an answer."

Suddenly, he didn't feel so composed.

"I want to submit to you, Christine. I think I need to. I know Helen has taught you about limits. We can talk that through, when you're ready. I'll trust you. I respect what you've been doing and I understand. You might not believe that right now, but I do. When you're ready, I'll be there. Anything you want, you can take it from me, Christine."

It wasn't quite what he and Helen had discussed, but close enough.

"Anything?"

"Anything we agree. That you want. When you're ready."

"And we will agree that I can hurt you? Within limits."

"Yes."

"Control you?"

"Absolutely."

"And you fully consent to this?"

"Yes, Christine, I do." He was shaking now, his voice was hoarse.

"Jack?"

He swallowed hard. Let her please, please, not beg off. Please.

"I don't know if I'll see you again afterwards."

"I know."

"Does that matter?"

His heart was pounding. "With regard to that, all that matters is what you want. Whatever that is, I'll accept it. Now, then, forever."

There was a long pause. He closed his eyes. Please. Oh, please.

"This Saturday, at Helen's place. Be there at 8 a.m."

There was a click; Jack opened his eyes and gave wordless thanks to whatever Higher Power he had been praying to, as he shut off the cell 'phone in his trembling hand.

*******

Helen's house was two blocks from the café, in a quiet residential street where the rush of nearby traffic was softened by mature, spreading trees. That any tree could live in a city never ceased to amaze Jack. That he loved them so much was something he had only recently realized.

In the last few days, he had slowly woken up. He felt as though he had been emptied out of all his old, dead senses and new life had been poured back in. The feeling had started with the call that set this appointment. It had ascended the next day with his first visit to Helen's house, where he and Helen had discussed his behavioral limits and what Helen would convey to Christine. He'd taken the rest of the week off. He would be back next week but, for now, the world could go on without him. He had somewhere else to be. Someone else to be. Up the steps now. Knock on the door. It was time.

"Good morning, Jack."

"Good morning, Helen."

"Please, come in. Follow me."

The heavy door closed quietly behind him. Helen looked resplendent today, he decided. She was wearing a very short, red, PVC dress and spikey, red, patent leather shoes. As he followed her wordlessly down the narrow hall he admired the lacing across the open back, the way the shiny sheath fitted around her waist, and the way the zipper curved around her buttocks. She led him through the kitchen, small but neat as a pin, and into the back parlor. He thought of it that way because there was something Victorian about the atmosphere of the bright little sitting room. Maybe it was the pale chintz upholstery and the potted palms and ferns. In any case he stood, uncertain what to do until she sat in one of the armchairs and indicated he should take another.

"Welcome back. There's some final paperwork, Jack. You'll be using my premises and I'll require you to sign a consent and release. A word about that. I know we've discussed it already but I'm going to say it again and you're going to acknowledge that I've said this to you; it is your responsibility to let Christine know if you are hurt or if you wish to stop whatever is happening."

"I understand. Absolutely, that's my responsibility."

"Obviously you're going to want to please her as much and for as long as you can but, if you need to, say your safeword. She knows what it is, and she knows my rule on that. Everything stops immediately. I have gags here but I have asked Christine not to use one on you today. That puts an added responsibility on you, Jack. Don't speak unless she asks you a question. And don't, under any circumstances, try to manipulate her or give her instructions; not verbally, and not any other way."

"I won't."

"Ok, I'll get you the forms. In the meantime, strip and put your clothes and any jewelry in that box." She pointed to a small leather trunk beside his chair.

He stared at it for a moment as she left, then complied and perched a little uncomfortably on the edge of the armchair seat, arms folded across his knees. The paperwork and discussion on his first visit had included an extensive list of behaviors; he'd rated humiliation somewhere low on his acceptable rating. There was always a degree of subjectivity, he guessed. The house was nice and warm, anyway.

"Up on your feet."

Helen came back with a clipboard with pen and papers attached, and two steel contraptions lying on top. He the metal objects warily as he stood, feeling extremely vulnerable. Helen was all business.

"Christine asked for you to be ready for when she arrived. I think the larger size will be right for you but wasn't sure so I brought both. Spread your legs."

He noticed she wasn't saying please for anything now. He stood with his feet about two feet apart.

"Present to me. Hips forward, bend your knees. Hands behind your head. Look at the far wall."

Her commands were peremptory and he obeyed, not without a small thrill. She crouched down to attend to him. He felt her warm hand pulling slightly on his genitals. A steel band was snapped around him behind his sac. His penis was now held down in a confining and severely sloping steel tube.