tagBDSMHitting the Bottom Ch. 09

Hitting the Bottom Ch. 09


Author's note:

As always, thank you to my co-creator and editor, the Brit.

If you're new to this story - I'm so glad you're here! While you're welcome to join anytime, I'd heartily recommend starting at the beginning as this chapter is going to be hard to jump into. Also, this series is the 3rd in my loosely-related trilogy of stories; so if you want to experience it the way I had envisioned it, please start with Lucky Bastard, continue to Whiskey and Rye, and then come back to Hitting the Bottom. It's going to be worth your time, I promise!

In previous chapters: Dan, a cop, had attempted suicide after assaulting his ex-wife/sub, and ended up at the hospital, where he met Nurse Sandra. Their relationship grew gradually, until finally they became lovers. Dan was reluctant to dominate Sandra, but with his shrink's blessing they did start playing. It was all fun and games - until he forgot the condom in the heat of the moment, and Sandra got pregnant.

In this chapter: Dan faces his worst fears; finds himself loving having Sandra on top.


For the longest moment I cannot breathe; only stare at those two tiny pink stripes dumbly. My mind is blank; the shock of her words had just short-circuited it.


Sandra's hesitant voice pulls my eyes up to meet hers and her anxious expression kick-starts my stalled brain. I gulp, and then, finally, lean over to take her in my arms. There's a fine tremor in her stiff form as she buries her face in my chest while my hands tighten around her, holding her close.

"Shhh... come here baby... it's going to be all right. Shhh..."

She must know - as well as I do - that's wishful thinking rather than any real promise, but Sandra doesn't challenge my words. Instead she clings to me, burrowing into the crook of my neck, as we hold onto each other like two survivors in a lifeboat, faced with nature's capricious forces. Never before have I faced first-hand just how overwhelming they can be.

After a while Sandra relaxes a bit in my arms, heaves a shaky breath, and leans back to look at my eyes.

"You're not mad, then?"

"What? No! Of course not." I look at her, bewildered. "I mean, I don't really know how I feel. Shocked, I guess. But no, I'm not angry, baby." A shaky laugh escapes me. "Not at you, anyways."

She nods and drops her eyes, but I need to see her. I tilt her face back up with my fingers.

"What about you, baby?"

She swallows hard, then admits softly: "I'm freaking out. Big time."

"You are?" I search her pale face. She looks helpless, but tries to explain. "I mean, I've always wanted babies, in theory, you know? But..." She doesn't finish the thought, burying her face in her hands. I know what she left unsaid. But not right now, and not like this.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." I agree reluctantly. We both fall quiet, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. Mine keep going back to one nagging question, which I finally decide to broach, carefully.

"Thank you, by the way."

She looks up at me. "What for?"

I shrug, stalling for time, feeling my stomach churning. We need to face this, and sooner, rather than later. Determined, though consciously keeping my voice light, I answer.

"For not taking the morning-after pill."

Her eyes widen, and then drop. I can barely make out her mumbled reply: "I did think about it."

My throat feels constricted. I clear it, and push my question out through the dryness. "What made you decide not to, then?"

She looks back up to meet my gaze head-on. "I believed we were safe, timing-wise. And I didn't want to take such a strong drug if I didn't have to." She lowers her eyes to study her hands, squeezed between her thighs, as she sits on the side of the bed, rocking lightly with her nerves. "I've a friend who'd taken it in the past. The side effects are... not trivial."

"Yes, so I've heard." I say, but then again, that doesn't quite answer my question. My real question, that is, which I'm not brave enough to voice in so many words... and yet, I need to know.

"Would you have taken it, if it weren't for the risk of those side effects?"

She hesitates. "Honestly? I don't know. I guess I really didn't want to make that decision right then; it was easy to rule out the pill because of the risks, and to hope I won't ever have to really think about it." She falls quiet, her cheeks colored with a faint blush. And then she meets my eyes. "But I promise, Dan, that even if I did use the morning-after pill, I wouldn't have done it without talking to you first."

My stomach cramps again with uneasy, helpless gratitude. I'm appalled by my own fierce reaction to the idea of her considering termination. On every level - other than this overwhelming, visceral response - it's something I'd not only expect might happen, but would also support. I believe children should come to this world wanted and loved, to parents who receive them as the true gifts that they are; who would provide for their material and emotional needs. And yet -

We hold each other's gaze. I reach her fingers with mine and lace them together, and then bend down to kiss her white, cool knuckles, resolved to focus on the small positive I can find in the situation.

"Thank you for that, baby."

She nods mutely. We sit in awkward silence, until she asks tentatively: "So, it sounds like you didn't want me to take that pill; does that mean you... want this?"

"This?" I repeat lightly, raising an eyebrow, and her blush deepens. I squeeze her hand, sobering. "Look... having a baby right now - we both know the timing couldn't be worse. We've only known each other for a few weeks. We haven't even talked about long-term commitment. As for me - you know, I'm... kind of a mess right now. I'm just starting to sort myself out. And you - you still have another year in school to get your diploma. A baby certainly wasn't part of your plans, right?"

She nods, her head hanging low, but in-between the streaks of blond I can see her cheeks had grown pale. I reach for her chin to gently turn her around to face me. "And yet, here I am, inexplicably relieved that you didn't use the day-after contraceptive. Crazy, huh?"

She looks at me, wide-eyed, as if unsure how to react. I lean back to wipe my hand over my face, into my short-cropped hair, the prickling sensation somehow providing an out to my bottled-up agitation. "I mean, I'm not a hundred percent sure how I feel about this, either. All I'm saying is... for some reason, along with being kind of shocked and overwhelmed by the idea of a baby, it also makes me feel - well... hopeful."

She turns to look at me fully. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Seriously. I didn't tell you at the time, but when I realized I forgot the condom... of course I pulled out immediately; but still... afterwards... the thought of you, pregnant with my baby - it was such a beautiful dream. I wanted it to last. I hated the thought of you... making sure it didn't happen."

Sandra falls quiet. She seems nervous, undecided, nibbling on her short, clean-cut nails. Finally she looks into my eyes and asks me straight:

"Does that mean you don't want me to have an abortion?"

Her words ring in the air between us, sharp and clear, out of place in the soft early-morning light. Her gaze is steady and unflinching; her clear-blue eyes looking straight into mine.

I cannot hide from her. I won't. Trust and hope.

"Baby..." I take a deep, fortifying breath. "Sandra, I love you." She blinks in surprise, but I don't give her an opening to respond. "I love you -" I repeat, needing these words to be present between us, "- and being a father, well, it's been on top of my wish list for so long, I forget anything else that was there before. So the short answer is - no, I don't want you to have an abortion. I know that means a 'forever'. And as sudden as this is, I promise you - I want it. I want you, and I want this baby, now and for the rest of our lives."

Her mouth had fallen open, but again I continue, needing to get it all out before she can reply.

"But baby - this isn't something I could decide for you. It's your life. It's your body. Taking on the kind of risks that come with pregnancy and childbirth, the commitment of raising a child -" I shake my head, squeezing her cold hands in mine. "- that's got to be your choice, Sandra. And you'd have every right to say 'no', if you don't want it."

I search her eyes, and my heart almost breaks at the look of anguished uncertainty behind a glossy sheen of tears. Her throat works repeatedly before she manages a squeaky whisper:

"Fifteen minutes ago, all I could think about is 'please let him be okay with this.' And now that I know you are, all I have in my head is - wh-what if I cannot do it? What if I'm not ready for that kind of commitment?"

I feel the pit of my stomach drop at her words. Fuck me. What did I expect? An "I love you too" and "let's have a baby together"?! I know she never wanted to get pregnant - she made that clear from the start; had insisted on condoms. Did I really think she'd be willing to have a baby now, with me, just because I wanted it?

I try to think of something to say that would reassure her, but I know it's a futile effort. She isn't ready. She said so herself. Time. We both need time to think this through.

"Baby, I -" I gulp, and then continue with more conviction than I actually feel. "I meant what I said. It really is your choice. But - but you don't have to make it right now, do you? There's some time to figure things out, isn't there?"

Her furrowed brow seems to clear a bit at that. "I guess so... I mean, I'm barely three weeks along - which means five, by the standard medical count from the first day of my last period - still, very early on. So, I guess - yes, there's some time to - to digest, to think before deciding anything. It's just..." She stops, biting her lips, her cheeks milky-white again.

"It's just... what?"

She shakes her head, unwilling to continue, not even looking at me - instead she leans forward over her knees, her head buried in her hands. I find myself slipping down to kneel in front of her on the small, fuzzy, purple carpet she keeps at the side of her bed. I close my fingers around her wrists, tugging them so that I can take her hands in mine, and make her look at me. Reluctantly, she does.

"Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me what's in your head right now."

Her chin quivers, and then I see the first tears sliding down her ashen cheeks. The sight slices at my gut. Fuck me. I've never seen her cry before, and haven't realized until this very moment just how hard her tears would hit me. Shit, shit, shit!

"Baby... come here."

Sandra clings to me, sobbing even harder as I wrap my arms around her. The position is a little awkward - with me still kneeling between her legs, hugging her torso, while she holds onto my neck and shoulders. But she finally lets go, allowing her anguish an out through her tears... I guess I'd just stay here for a while.

"Shh... Baby... Breathe... We'll figure it out, I promise..."

I try to reassure her in a low, quiet voice. She nods, probably responding more to my tone than anything else. I take it as a good sign - I was half-expecting her to tell me to shut up. Finally, after a while - I'm not sure how long, but long enough for my knees to start protesting - she starts to calm down, so I tighten my arms around her and murmur into her ear: "Hold on tight, baby. I'm going to pick you up."

She doesn't answer, but her feet come up to link behind the small of my back, and I can feel her fingers close on my shoulders. I keep one hand around her back, and use the other to push up against the bed, and then walk, with her still in my arms, out to the living room. Sandra is not a tiny woman; carrying her takes real effort. But man, it feels good. Manly. I shake my head internally. Pathetic. Then immediately get annoyed at my own knee-jerk negativity. Stop. It's okay to feel good about being her man; It's a good thing. Don't belittle yourself. Trust and hope, Dan.

I settle down carefully on the couch with her straddling my lap. Once seated, I keep quiet and simply breathe slowly in and out, exaggerating the exhales, and am relieved to see it does the trick - Sandra seems to mimic my pace and relax in my arms. I kiss her temple lightly and slowly stroke her back, trying to soothe her further.

"Baby, please... there's no rush. We've got some time; we'll figure it out."

I mean the words to be reassuring, but instead feel Sandra's body stiffen, and then she leans back to look at me. "Yes, but - it's not a ton of time, you know."

Trying not to panic I draw a long, shaky breath. "Okay, I think I need a crash course here. What is the timeline we're looking at?"

She leans back so that our eyes meet. "I - I'll need to check, but I think first prenatal checkup should be scheduled around 7 weeks gestation - I'll call my gynecologist's office a little later, when they open - but that's like two weeks from now."

"And we need a decision to be made by then?" I ask, unable to keep the alarm out of my voice.

Sandra shakes her head, her face grim. "No - not exactly. I mean, up until 14 weeks or so the procedure for termination is not very risky. And there's the option of later termination, too, before the fetus becomes viable - up until 24 weeks or so, I think. But -" she chews hard on her lower lip, and looks like she's going to burst into tears again. "- but at 7 weeks they do an ultrasound to make sure it's in the right place - inside the uterus - and that it's growing normally, and -" now she's crying again, but she keeps talking through her tears. "- and they check for a h-heartbeat."

Her voice breaks on that last word, and she seems to fold into herself, crying once more, her forehead pressed against my chest. I can just barely make her next words through her shaking sobs.

"And I - I don't know if... if I'd be able to do it if -" she shakes her head against my chest, her hands clinging hard to my back. "- if it already had a beating heart."

My own pulse kicks erratically at her words. Just imagining that scenario... I squeeze her harder in my arms. "Shh... okay. It's okay baby. So - let's take a week, okay? Let's take a week to think about it, to let this sink in, to talk about it... and then decide. Okay? Can we do that?"

I feel, rather than hear, her mumbled sniffled 'm'kay' against my neck.

Okay. Trust and hope. I suck in a deep breath, and release it slowly. Then repeat.

When she finally calms down, Sandra leans back to meet my eyes. Her face is flushed and bloated from crying, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips swollen... she looks more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her before. The need to protect her surges inside me, choking me in its intensity, and I move to embrace her again, but her hands on my chest stop me, pushing firmly to keep me in place. My head jerks back with surprise.

"Dan, I just need to know... I need to know you won't hate me if -"

Her voice trails off, but I hear the unsaid words loud and clear. 'If I decided to have an abortion'. I try swallowing, but my throat is dry as a desert. Can I promise her that? I want to reassure her, but I don't want to lie to her, either. When I finally manage to get my words out, it's not exactly the answer she was looking for, but the best I can do right now.

"Baby, I love you. I can't imagine not loving you. And I'd never hurt you - you know that, right? I'm - I'm going to take this up with Dr. Pappas, okay? Just to be on the safe side..." Now I'm the one who loses his nerve mid-sentence.

She cups both my cheeks in her hands, looking at me a bit funnily.

"I know you won't hurt me, Dan. That's not what I meant - although if you feel you need to talk to Dr. Pappas about it then - yeah, you need to do that."

She halts and shifts uncomfortably in my lap. "It's just - what you just said, about loving me, I'm... I'm scared that it's too good to be true. We're talking about making life-changing decisions, one way or the other, and I -" she shakes her head, clearly frustrated. "I don't know how we could possibly not screw this up."

I take both her hands in mine and kiss each palm in turn before lowering them to rest between us, then admit ruefully - "You know, I've had this mantra I've been using ever since... well, since then. Maybe you'd like to try it out... " She raises her eyebrows questioningly. Looking into her eyes, feeling ridiculously brave as I lay my deepest secrets bare before her, I say it out loud.

"Trust and hope, baby. Trust and hope."

She smiles tentatively at me. "Okay."

Just like that. Her acceptance floors me; humbles me. But then, I've always known she was a better person than I could ever hope to be. I nod and swallow hard.



She drags in a slow, shuddering breath. Then, slowly, her face seems to relax and then brighten, one light eyebrow arching up, tugging along the corner of her mouth into a knowing little smile. I watch the transformation, mesmerized, and almost miss her soft murmur.

"So, what you said before... was that just to get me to stop crying, or did you really mean it?"

I feel my own cheeks groove in response. I know what she's asking, but am not above making her squirm a little. "Which part?"

Her confident facade melts, exposing the fragile hope underneath. "Do you really love me, Dan?"

I nod solemnly. "I do. Is that so hard to believe?"

She leans close, so close that our noses almost touch; her eyes are fixed on mine, large and gleaming with her emotions.

"I love you, too."

I feel her words warm my lips and then flow past, filling me with their sweetness, spreading heat down my chest to my belly, like a shot of brandy on a cold night, melting my insides. I gather her close, cup her warm cheeks in my hands, and kiss her.

I mean to be gentle, but the moment our lips meet sparks flare between us, catching the heat, and we're both lost to the flames. She opens her mouth under my lips, her tongue inviting mine inside, and her hands pull me close.

I can't get enough of her. I need to feel her skin against mine. I pull her clingy night shirt off of her in one urgent tug, discarding it uncaringly in my haste to fill my palms with her curves. Sandra's palms stroke up and down my sides, broadcasting her own need. Getting her panties off proves harder with her straddling my thighs, and I push her to stand in front of me, then hook my fingers in the elastic band at her hips.

Looking up at her I catch a glimpse of her flushed face, partially hidden by soft blond curtains, and smile. Seeing her like this, turned on and impatient, it is all I can do not to tackle her to the floor. Instead, I force myself to slow down, take my time getting her panties off, enjoy the feel of her skin and the sound of her breath catching along the way. Yeah. That's more like it.

Finally when the lace-trimmed white undies are pooled at her ankles, I brush my hand lightly along her inner thigh. She obeys my unspoken command and steps out of them, and her compliance sends a surge of need straight to my cock, which now strains uncomfortably against my boxers. Holding onto her hips I lean forward to place a soft kiss on the lower slope of her belly, just where it disappears beneath her blond pubic fuzz, and hear her sharp inhale.

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