Inspirati Scientia

Shivering with pleasure, she whispered back, "Because you're the best lover in the world. I'm the one who's lucky."

"Put the tray on the dresser and remove your robe, I want to look at you" I commanded, and she obeyed, now standing naked and awaiting inspection. Upon closer examination, there were no bruises, but the skin at the base of her breasts was red from the rubber bands, while her breasts themselves were still quite pink from our session.

"I'm afraid I left more marks than I intended, my angel," I told her.

"After what I did, I deserved it. Besides, I like being marked, by you" she quickly responded. I took her face in my hands and kissed her, my tongue teasing her beautiful lips.

"You are a stubborn minx," I told her, "but you are still mine to take care of. Lay face up on the bed, please." She crawled to the center, then laid as she was told.

"Good girl," I told her, then opened the drawer of the nightstand and removed a jar of coconut oil skin cream. Taking a large glop of it, I rubbed it between my hands to warm it, then massaged the lotion into the reddened areas of her breasts. Despite the thorough workout it had last night, I felt my erection returning.

"These are the most beautiful tits in the world, you know," I told her, "I'm really quite fond of them. They should be displayed in an art gallery, don't you agree?" I bent and placed a kiss on her left nipple for emphasis.

"Thank you, Sir," she mumbled, "but they're quite large."

I chuckled as I continued to massage her ample bust, "This is exactly why I love them so, promise me you won't do something silly like try to reduce them."

"I promise," she shivered, "my tits are yours, and only yours. I won't ever try to change them."

"Excellent answer," I told her. Putting more coconut oil cream on my hands, I massaged and kissed her delicious belly roll.

"Just like real estate, this belly is all about perfect location. It's close to your sweet pussy, between those wonderful hips, and right above your uterus. I can't wait for you to get pregnant," I purred. I meant every word of it, too.

Since we'd started dating, I'd frequently envisioned Rachel and I walking with a cute little curly-haired girl - a mirror-image of her mother - between us, each of us holding her hand. "What happens if pregnancy makes me gain weight? Will you still want me?" she asked.

I paused to put more cream in my hands, and told her, "That will only make you sexier. I'll have no choice but to fuck you more frequently." Then I leaned down and kissed her, more passionately this time. My hands, meanwhile, automatically sought out her tits and I began to rub them very gently.

Rachel stiffened, and I asked, "Are your tits still tender, my love? Do you want me to stop?"

"N-n-no," she answered, "please don't stop. They're still tender and my nipples are sore, so try not to be too rough," she said, but realizing she had just given me what sounded like an order, added, "but only if it pleases you, my love."

This small submission drove me over the edge. Abandoning my gentle approach, I shifted position and roughly pushed her fleshy things apart, and she gasped as I plunged my cock in her. "Your pussy pleases me, my little slut," I told her, "and your sore nipples. Hold your tits up!"

Reaching under her voluptuous tits, she lifted them up so I could take her still sensitive nipples in my mouth and nibbled on them. She cried out in pain mixed with pleasure as I ravaged her. I allowed memories of her manipulation at Nichols's hands to trickle in, and jealousy flowed through me. I began to fuck her in anger, my pistoning becoming rougher.

I bellowed, "You hot bitch, you're all MINE, do you hear me?" I plunged even harder, the sound of my balls slapping on her ass making me even more crazy with lust.

My sudden aggression seemed to have flipped a masochistic switch in Rachel, and she responded by grinding her pubic mound hard against me, her heels digging into the mattress and pushing upwards so I was as deep in her as I'd ever been. I felt her fingers reach down and rub her clit as we fucked, and she began to cum, screaming, "YES, I'm yours, fuck me! My tits, my ass, my pussy, they only belong to you, Sir!"

Those were the words that drove me over the edge. I'd thought I'd completely drained my balls the night before, but somehow I once again managed to cum inside Rachel again before collapsing on top of her. The jealousy quickly faded, and I reached up to stroke her hair and kiss her pretty face. "I love you so much, Rachel," I whispered, "please never betray me again."

"I promise, Patrick," she responded, running her hands up and down my sides, "you're everything to me now."

~~~~~~~~~~

Once Rachel and I returned to work, life in the research lab returned to normal over the next few weeks. Experiments were conducted, endothermic reactions were explored, and new patents were filed. Aside from our routine of sharing a lunch table, while we didn't indulge in public displays of affection, we made less of an effort to hide things.

The curious chemist who'd once asked me if Rachel and I were a thing cornered me in the cafeteria again, asking, "Are you sure you and Dr. Berrigan aren't an item? I get a real strong vibe between the two of you."

Apparently, my old habit of mooning over Rachel had resumed! I merely smiled and, without confirmation nor denial, responded, "Your observational skills are to be trusted." Once in a while, I'd even ask Dr. Berrigan to join me in my office for some locked-door oral presentations late in the day when my desire for her couldn't wait until after work.

On the home front, Rachel had given her landlord notice she was not renewing her lease. The first of the month, she'd be moving in with me. I'd never felt so happy, and my worries about Trevor Nichols returning were practically non-existent. As it turned out, that was a bit premature.

One afternoon around 1:30pm, Rachel came into my office, locking the door behind her. There was panic in her expression, and her light complexion looked positively pale, drained of all color. Something appeared to be seriously wrong. Immediately I asked her, "What is it, Rachel?"

Tears were now welling up in her eyes. "You believe I love you more than anything, right?"

Getting up out of my chair, I walked around the desk and led her to the small loveseat over by the window, then sat and pulled her into my lap. "What's going on, my love?"

"I need your help," she pleaded, then added, "Sir." Ah, there was the clue. Something had stirred up her masochistic response.

Nibbling at her neck, I growled, "What have you done?"

I felt her shiver at the sound of my voice. "Nothing, Sir, I promise! It's just that today I got a voicemail from Trevor, and I need you to tell me what to do." Her voice then went very soft. "I promised you I'd never do anything to hurt you again."

Internally, I breathed a grateful sigh of relief. That bastard Nichols had inadvertently tested my lover; rather than be manipulated into a compromising position again, her instinctive response was to come to me. Clearly, she now trusted me with control of her heart.

On the other hand, my blood boiled at the thought of Nichols trying to disrupt my relationship with Rachel a second time. "Play the voicemail for me please," I commanded.

She dug her phone out of her pocket and played the message for me on speaker. Nichols' voice sounded even more arrogant than the first time I'd heard it.

"'Ello, Rachel. Your Daddy's comin' to town soon, and wants to see you and play about with them great fine tits of yours. You're a slag what appreciates a bit of slap and tickle, ain't ya? Last time I got cheated because of that that damned necklace what your faggot fella give you, but after I called him last time, I imagine 'e's left yer by now, didne? The way I sees it, ya still owes me a taste o' that cunny of yers, right? I'll be stayin' at the Hyatt next week, so I'll be ringing you when I get ter town."

When the message ended Rachel looked at me, as if fearful of my response. She needn't have been. The fractionization process had worked, and Rachel's loyalty was untainted. She was unmistakably mine.

"You've done nothing wrong darling," I reassured her, as I unbuttoned her lab coat and reached under her blouse to caress her lovely body. "Block his number and forget about him. I'll make sure he never bothers you again." I gave Rachel a passionate kiss and squeezed that soft tummy, then sent her on her way. As much as I would have loved to remove her khakis and fuck my angel right there in my office, it would have to wait until later that night. At the moment, I had something more pressing to attend to.

Rachel wasn't the one who should have been fearful of my response, it should have been Trevor. Since it was 4:45pm in Washington, DC, my brother Edward would still be in his office at the Pentagon. I dialed his number, and he picked up almost immediately.

~~~~~~~~~~

Later in bed, I informed Rachel we were going out to dinner tomorrow night, and asked that she wear my favorite dress, the deep blue clingy one with the slit skirt she'd worn when we'd gone to the Top Dollar restaurant. The next night she wasn't quite ready when I went to pick her up, so I sat and waited for her to finish; once she was ready I told her, "Wait a minute, something's missing. Let me help."

Stepping behind her, I took out the birthstone necklace she'd given back to me, and slipped it on her. "There, that's better."

Looking in the mirror, her eyes got wide. "Patrick, does this mean..."

I answered her question before she'd finished it. "You told me to keep this necklace until I felt you deserved it. This means you deserve it, and me."

Rachel flung herself into me, burying her face in my chest and clutching me hard. Tears suddenly gathering in the corners of her eyes. Before she could respond, I told her, "What's past is past, and can't make us happy. There's no more looking back. I want to be happy, and I want it to be with you, OK?"

She just nodded and choked out, "OK." I leaned my face down and kissed her, then wiped away her tears. Rachel's connection to me was pure again, and I felt like my life couldn't get any better.

At dinner, I found out I was wrong. As we savored the last drops of our cappuccinos, Rachel took two small boxes out of her purse. Handing me the first box, which was about 4" x 4", she told me "Go ahead, open it!"

I did, and was somewhat confused. It was a package of birth control pills, none of which were missing. Before I could say anything she quickly handed me the second box, which was slightly longer and half the width of the first. Opening it up, I saw a plastic stick the size of a small marker. When I turned it over, I saw it had a little window in it, and the window was showing two lines. As comprehension began to dawn on me, she took my hand and explained.

"After I hurt you so badly, I was determined to do anything to make it up to you. My period arrived mid-week after that awful Friday. Once it was over, I stopped taking my birth control, thinking if you ever wanted me again, I'd give you the family you dreamed of."

She took my hand, and laid it on that wonderful belly. "Your dream's coming true."

~~~~~~~~~~

The following Monday we went back to work in the lab as per usual, and when lunch time came around I asked for everyone's attention in the lunchroom. I'd hidden my relationship with Rachel long enough; now I needed everyone to know she was mine. I hoped Rachel would appreciate the venue I'd selected as I got down on one knee and proposed to her. To my joy and relief, she cried a fear happy tears and said "Yes!"

I stood up and pulled her to her feet, giving my new fiancée a kiss hot enough to ignite magnesium. Everyone in the lunchroom clapped and congratulated us, even the former gossip-mongers. After we left the lunchroom, I took Rachel back to my office and locked the door.

Pulling off her khakis, I had her sit on my desk facing me with her legs spread; sitting in my chair, I greedily devoured my now-fiancée's pregnant pussy, using my tongue to tango with her newly-engaged clitoris. At last, I was where I longed to be, with the woman I'd longed to be with, and no one -- especially not Trevor Nichols - could ever take this away from me.

~~~~~~~~~~

PART 4: Sweet Revenge

Through rock and through stone, the black wind still moans

Sweet revenge, sweet revenge, will prevail without fail.

- John Prine

~~~~~~~~~~

The last time I'd heard Nichols' voice, it was prideful and mocking. Now, it was filled with panic and desperation.

"Who the fuck are ya, and how did ya bloody find me?" he demanded. Apparently I'd called at a bad time, since right about now his stomach would be training for a gold medal in gymnastics. Wonderful.

"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is who YOU are. Your name is Trevor Albert Nichols, you work for Produits Chimiques, you live at 5654 Coyote Point Lane in Santa Fe New Mexico with your wife Laney, and you drive a 2016 Chevy Suburban, license plate LYM3Y, correct?"

"If ya know all that, ya bloody well know who the fuck I am, ya wanking bastard!"

"Indeed I do. If you've given it any thought at all, I'm guessing by now you've probably figured out who I am -- unless there are other men who hate you more than I do, in which case, you really ARE fucked."

"Ya must be Rachel Berrigan's cunt boyfriend. What ya fuckin' want from me?"

"I want you to end all contact with Dr. Berrigan. She's no longer yours to abuse, she's safe with me, and I'm keeping her that way. I want you to not only keep way from her, but you're also to stay out of the Albuquerque area entirely. Otherwise, I promise you'll regret it."

"Listen, ya gormless bastard, ya may have made her think she's fuckin' important by giving her a bit 'o shiny, but she's not. She's just a submissive little slag what's more educated than most, thinking she's posher than she is, right? But I know what she is, and when we're together I 'll straightaway put her back in her place, I will! Tell ya what, the next time I see her, I'll slip my nice fat cock up her arse, just for you!"

"As I said, you'll never be touching her ever again. I'm watching out for her now."

"Oh yeah? What ya going to do to stop me, ya useless knob?"

"I've already done it. Tell me about your hands. How badly are they shaking?"

The British braggart suddenly fell silent. Good!

"Judging by from your non-response, I'm guessing the answer is pretty badly. It will soon get worse. In a few minutes you'll become quite dizzy and walking will be a challenge, which is a shame because when you start to vomit, you'll also need to get to the toilet. That's from the neurotoxin you've ingested."

"What neurotoxin? What the fuck are ya on about?"

"It's a nasty synthetic chemical weapon that slows vital organ functioning until eventually they stop. It could have been slipped in your latte from the coffee shop this morning. It might have been put in the enchilada you ordered from the taco truck at lunch, or even that smoothie you bought at the juice bar after work. Funny how minimum-wage workers respond when you offer them $200 just to spike someone's food or drink, isn't it?"

Then as an afterthought I added, "Oh, my, I hope your life insurance is paid up. You wouldn't your poor wife Laney to be destitute once the neurotoxin finishes its job."

"How did ya...?"

"You've completely underestimated me, Nichols. I work in a chemical research facility, and my older brother works for the Department of Defense in Washington DC. Oh, and I really, really hate you. I'm definitely not someone you want to fuck with, but here we are."

I heard Nichols start to retch now, silently wishing him good luck making it to the toilet. After a couple of minutes, he picked the phone back up. He no longer sounded panicked and desperate; instead, he sounded consumed with fear.

"YA FUCKIN' PRICK, WHAT HAVE YER DONE ME?" he screamed, full-on terrified now.

I, on the other hand, was as calm as a convent. Those Klingons of Star Trek were right, revenge is a dish best served cold.

"As I was saying, my brother works in the Pentagon, so he's got access to some very nasty chemical warfare substances, such as that neurotoxin you've ingested. Your vomiting won't stop, you know. The neurotoxin won't let it. After a few hours, you'll be puking up blood and stomach lining, maybe even some pieces of intestine. The only way to stop it is by taking the antidote."

"Ya bastard! Where do I get the antidote?" he pleaded. This was now the sweet sound of a desperate man, facing the consequences of his own actions. I was enjoying it far more than a decent man should, but as far as Nichols was concerned, I stopped being a decent man when he'd dialed me up that Friday.

I chuckled. "Don't panic, it's hidden somewhere in your house. If you're reasonable and agree to cut contact with Dr. Berrigan, I'll tell you where it is."

"OK, I agree, ya nutter! Where's it then?"

Unable to help myself, I laughed out loud. "Oh, no, not so fast, Nichols, not so fast. If you think you can just get the antidote and then go back on your word, think again. Thanks to my brother's government connections, there's nowhere we can't get to you. The next time you get slipped a neurotoxin, I won't be giving you a courtesy call like I am now. The next one will be more agonizing than this one, and there will be no antidote. No doctor or hospital will be able to save you. Are we clear on this point?"

I heard him cry out in pain, no doubt from the abdominal cramps running through him, then heard him hiss, "We're clear, damn ya, we're clear! Now tell me where the fuckin' antidote is!"

At this point, I was finally convinced of his sincerity. "Look in your wife's underwear drawer, all the way in the back. There are two small vials containing clear liquid. Drink one, wait two hours, then drink the other." I disconnected, savoring the fact that after he'd taken the antidote and recovered, he'd be driven crazy trying to figure out how vials of antidote managed to be tucked in amongst his wife's lingerie in the first place.

I'd wager Nichols would never figure out how it was his own wife that put them there. It had been incredibly easy to arrange. When I approached her in a shopping mall parking lot and offered her $10,000 to put the vials in her underwear drawer, she'd readily agreed: $5000 cash up front, and $5000 sent via Venmo when she'd sent me pictures of the vials in the drawer next to her panties.

I had to hand it to her, Laney Nichols was a cold-blooded professional; she'd agreed to do as we asked, then taken the money and didn't ask why. They'd married her in Las Vegas, and a little research by my brother's FBI contacts revealed Laney's former employment was as a prostitute at the Palomino Ranch - a famous brothel outside the city - so this may have explained her motivation. In retrospect, she could have just taken the $5000 and chucked the vials, but luckily for her husband, she went for the entire $10,000.

~~~~~~~~~~

Epilogue - Storybook Love

My love is like a storybook story

It's as real as the feelings I feel

- Mark Knopfler

~~~~~~~~~~

Fractionation has served its purpose. Rachel's devotion to me is pure and undiluted - as is mine to her - while Trevor Nichols' influence has been dispatched to the dung-heap of history.

The second bedroom of our house has been redecorated. The heavier equipment - the winch, the pulleys, and the suspension bar - have been removed and retired to a storage locker, replaced by a crib, dresser, bookcase and changing table belonging to our infant princess, Ada Lovelace Dawson. The stout eye hook in the ceiling beam over Ada's crib now bears the load of a solar system baby mobile.