Rock and Water Ch. 03

We lay there quietly, the dogs resting nearby as the wind caresses the surrounding wildflowers. He's taken my hand and is gently caressing it. His actions are soft, but I'm sensing some tension in him. Finally he speaks.

"Tell me about your tattoo. I know there must be some significance behind it." He turns on his side to face me. I've been lying on my back with my knees up, feet on the ground. He reaches over and begins to stroke his hand slowly up and down my calf, over the tattoo, as if in doing so it may answer his own question.

"Well, it does.... on many levels." I pause, thinking of the best way to explain. "On the most basic level, I'm a total nature freak, especially around waterfalls. It's where I find my spirituality; my peace." I stop there, not quite ready to continue.

"Go on, there's more." His voice is firm; a shred of command underlies his otherwise calm request.

I realize now that I'm about to reveal more about myself to Patrick than I have to anyone besides Johanna. I worry that I may be wrong about him. That he'll think different of me after I tell him, but how can I not? I refuse to go into a relationship and not be true to myself ever again.

"OK...when I look at a waterfall, I see it for what it is. Rocks and water. It's so simple but so beautiful at the same time. The water is soft, so willing to bend to the will of the rock. The rock stands strong, but over time allows the water to soften its edges. The two elements come together to create something so much better, so much stronger than the sum of its parts."

His eyes leave mine as he looks again at my tattoo, his hand continuing to caress the skin. I go on. "It's a metaphor for what I want in my life Patrick, from what I want from a relationship. I've always had a drive to please, but in my marriage it took form as always trying to be in control, to always be in charge and make everything perfect. The more control I took, the more Frank gave me until it seemed he couldn't make a decision on his own. I lost respect for him, resented that he couldn't be stronger for me, and in turn... lost my desire for him too."

Patrick's eyes focus on mine and he asks me bluntly, "...and in the bedroom?"

"I, uh... well, it started off pretty fun, he was a good and attentive lover but not very adventurous." I look down , noticing my hands fidgeting in my shirt. Looking up I ask, "Do you really want to hear this?"

Without waver in his voice, or eyes, "Yes, go on."

"Um, ok.... Over the years my... my needs changed. Or maybe they didn't change... I think I always knew."

"Knew what?"

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. "This is hard..."

"Open your eyes Corrine. Look at me."

I open my eyes to find Patrick has moved closer, propped up on one elbow. He reaches his other hand and gently rests it on my breast bone, two fingers on my pulse. His hand is hot. His eyes are focused on me. Warm. Accepting. "What did you know?"

"Ok... Just like in our day to day, I... oh shit this is hard... I was in control. If you asked him, he would never have thought that, but I was." I pause, hoping this is enough. One look at him and I know it isn't.

"I felt like I always had to take the lead, to set the tone.... He was always so gentle, so giving. I felt like I had no room to complain. I know it was my responsibility to tell him what I liked or didn't like, but honestly, sometimes a woman just wants a man to just....know. The thing is, I'd figured out early on that I like it, um, a bit rough. After hinting at it, he figured it out but when he was, I could tell it was only to please me. It didn't feel real... not to mention it was never really enough anyway." I feel shy sharing this, but I feel no judgment from him.

Patrick's hand on my chest subtly moves upward until it is lightly resting on the base of my neck. I don't feel threatened by it, but it does feel very intentional on his part. His eyes bore in to me, and he licks his lips before speaking. "It didn't feel real because he didn't know you what you needed. He didn't know you were submissive." His voice is measured and steady. "He didn't know your deep need to give up control." Patrick pauses, gauging my reaction to his words. His voice lowers but remains steady. "He didn't know how to use your body like a fuck toy."

I gasp at his blunt words. Shocked and excited to hear them, but so overwhelmed. My heart and mind start to race and I attempt to sit up, pushing away his hand. He allows me to sit up, as he does too, but restricts me from standing by placing his hands firmly on my shoulders.

"Corrine, breathe....." His hold on me is not painful, but it is clearly letting me know I can't run from him. I know I don't want to, but outside of Robert no one has ever spoken to me this way. No one knows how much I crave it; how much I need to let go...

"I don't understand," I stammer, trying to catch my breath and find the right words. "How could you know? I've always been told how confident I come off; how strong."

Patrick smiles, and pulls me in to his arms. My head rest on his chest, hearing his strong, slow heartbeat. "You are confident. You are strong." His hand caresses my arm rhythmically, relaxing me in to his body. "Being submissive does not negate those qualities. Honestly for me, they enhance it. It was your confidence and strength that attracted me to you in the first place, but it was the way you looked at me, the way your body responded to mine at the lockers yesterday that hinted at your submissive side. I took a chance just now by saying it. I'm glad I did."

"So, uh... does that mean that you enjoy, um, that you are..."

"Does it mean that I'm dominant? Yes." He allows me to absorb his words for a bit before continuing. "It's who I've been; always. From my earliest sexual experiences I realized I enjoyed taking control, but it was more than that. It was finding someone who would willingly give up THEIR control that had the most profound effect on me. "

"In high school, I never wanted to date a girl that was passive; who would agree with everything I said. I found it was much more satisfying to be with a girl that could hold her own, but then would submit to my will. It was that way also through college. In my twenties, I was relatively active in the local BDSM scene, which is...where I met my wife."

His hold on me subtly shifts. While still warm and comforting, I can sense some tension, or maybe apprehension. He continues, "She was everything I was looking for, really. Intelligent, ambitious, adventurous..." His voice is softer, a bit sad. "She claimed to be submissive, but early in our marriage she seemed less interested in the kink that I thought she enjoyed. I backed off, which was maybe my first mistake, but I'd hoped she'd come back to me on her own. Being dominant, being in control is who I am, but in the end she admitted that it had just been 'fun' for her to be submissive; just a role she had been playing."

"We'd always planned to have kids, and when I realized that might not happen I became withdrawn from her. When I wasn't, I was a bully. I think I was trying to take control of the relationship in any way I could and it blew up in my face. She left me for a business colleague last year."

"Thank you for telling me Patrick." I'm still a little confused though. I look down at his left hand. His gaze follows mine to the indention on his ring finger.

"I can't explain why it was so hard for me to let go of the ring, but I only took it off for good around 3 months ago." He tightens his hold on me and rests his head on my shoulder. "I feel like I should tell you, I was a bit of a slut after my marriage ended. Always safe though, I promise. Mostly women I met online; occasionally from bars. There was one time with a personal trainer at the gym... I think I needed to prove something to myself. It was really pretty adolescent but oddly enough exorcised some demons for me. No kink; just straight sex. No dating either. Oddly enough, I kept my ring on during that period of time, only to remove it when I was done playing around a few months ago. I haven't dated, or been with anyone since."

I look up at him. "Can I ask why?"

He says simply, "I want more. I want a relationship." My heart skips hearing this.

"Oh."

"What about you? Have you dated since your marriage ended?" He brushes some loose hair from my face sending goose bumps down my neck.

"In recent months I did some online dating, but was never really interested in the men I was meeting"

"Have you had sex?" He asks bluntly.

I laugh. "Wow, that's direct."

He just smiles.

"Well, no, not really. But... kind of?"

"Toys?" He asks, perhaps a little overenthusiastically.

"Um, yes... toys. But, there's more. As you figured out with your ninja/dom mind meld, I am submissive, in the bedroom anyway."

Patrick interrupts me briefly. "We still need to discuss what that means to you at some point."

"Oh, ok.... I fidget a little. "Anyway, I... uh, had no experience so I looked online, eventually finding a bdsm chat site. I met a man there, Robert, about one and a half years ago. We hit it off, but maintained our relationship online or over the phone since we were across the country from each other."

"And you never met during that time?'

"No. We decided early on it would be best not to. That it may keep us from meeting other people. In the end, he did, and so it ended."

Patrick encourages me to tell him more about the phone calls, and I do. I don't know if it's his rhythmic caresses in my hair, his warm embrace, or how easy it is to talk to him, but it's as if I'm in a trance and it all spills out. The toys, the pain, the names. The compassion, support, and encouragement. All of it. Again, no judgment .

"When did it end?"

I tell him it was five months ago, and I see him do the math. "Although not in person, you had what sounds like a very intense dom/sub relationship with him for over a year. Do you still have feelings for him?"

"No. I don't. I'm very grateful for the time I had with him, but the boundaries we set from the beginning I think helped when it was over."

"Mmmmm.... I'm grateful too, that you've researched the lifestyle and embrace it. I also feel very, very lucky that I found you before you met someone else" Patrick lays us both down on to the blanket, then roles over on top of me, propping his weight up on his elbows. It feels delicious to have his body on mine and I squirm under him to create a little friction. "Uh, uh naughty girl," he says with a grin," unless you're trying to tell me you're an exhibitionist too." He nods to his left, and I can see some hikers coming over the hill towards us. I jump up abruptly, pushing him over as I do as he lays there laughing. I give him a kick in the ass, which just makes him laugh harder.

"Ok, ok...," he says. "I deserved that.

We pack up his sack as the dogs jump excitedly around us. The hike down goes pretty fast and as before, Patrick is there to help me during more technical descents. We reach his truck, pack up the dogs, and I melt in to my seat. Once off the forest roads, it's about another 30 minutes before we cross the bridge over the Columbia River in to Washington where his cabin is. There's a sweet looking, small town just a half a mile down the road.

His cabin is small and rustic, nestled in the woods a short distance off the road and away from other homes and cabins. It's surrounded by a mix of old Douglas Fir, Maple, and Hemlock trees covered in moss, with sunlight trickling through the branches. There's a small shed, clothesline, and a basketball hoop just to the left of the cabin, but otherwise it's just the trees.

We go inside with the dogs, who both immediately jump up on a very comfortable looking old leather couch before Patrick immediately kicks them off. Along with the couch is an old antique wood rocking chair with a Pendleton blanket over the back, and a coffee table with a surface made of slate tiles. A worn Kilim rug covers the living area, while the rest of the floors are hardwood, probably fir. Across from the couch is a wood stove with a generous pile of logs and branches resting next to it in a copper pot.

A small round, wood kitchen table and two chairs sit next to a large pane window, and the kitchen essentially runs along the back wall of the cabin. It has an old gas stove, large farmhouse sink, and a fridge. There's a closet near the front door, and two other doors which I presume go to a bathroom and bedroom. The cabin smells woodsy and yummy and I instantly feel comfortable and at home.

Patrick puts our backpacks on the floor then takes me in to his arms. I expect him to kiss me, but instead he just holds me in a long, silent embrace. It's utterly quiet here except the panting of the dogs, and I feel a peace go through me as I close my eyes. Neither of us speaks for a few minutes, yet I feel a lot is communicated. We've had very different, yet very similar journeys, which have brought us to this place and time. Patrick loosens his hold on me but still has me in his embrace. He looks down on me with a contemplative look in his eyes, as if about to speak, but this time I take the initiative and speak first.

"Thank you for bringing me here. I can feel you've put your heart in this cabin and I'm honored to have been invited."

He smiles warmly. "You're very welcome. I want you to know two things." He pauses to me draw me close again so my head is on his chest. His hand slowly caresses my back as he speaks again. "I built this as my marriage was failing. It was a solace and a refuge for me when I couldn't stand to be in our home alone while she was traveling. Before it was built, I slept in my tent until it had four walls and a roof. Maureen, my ex, only came out a few times. I think to humor me." He shakes his head a little, then continues. "Subconsciously I think I'd hoped that if we had a place away from the city we'd reconnect, but she never seemed to warm to the place. She would rather have stayed in a B&B or resort. You're the first woman, besides friends of course, that I've ever brought here."

I take a moment to let that soak in and I realize now that his invitation to stay was not an impulsive gesture on his part. A myriad of emotions go through me including shock, fear, and incredible pleasure that this man seems to be as attracted to me as I am to him. I remind myself to breathe, and to accept things as they come with no expectations or insecurity.

"The other thing you should know...." He pulls back, this time stepping back to put me at arm's length with his hands on my arm. He locks his eyes on mine. "I'm not looking for casual sex. I'm not just looking for kinky games in bed... Do not be mistaken, in this moment more than anything I want to press you up against this wall to take you right here, but I won't and I can't if you don't feel the same." His eyes search mine as he goes on. "But if you do...if you do feel the same. If you're ready to give yourself to me, to give this a try, I have this sense that it will be very, very good. For both of us...."

My head and my heart are swirling, as my chest and pussy come alive with his words. This is what I've been waiting for, what I've been dreaming of. How could it be this easy? Nothing ever has before. "Trust this," I tell myself, "at least for the moment let go of your fear Corrine."

"I feel it too. It's uncanny how comfortable I am with you. All during our hike. Here in your cabin. Please understand that Its hard for me to just let go and give myself to someone, but I've promised myself I would try. I want to trust you with my body, with my heart... I'll try my best, but please be patient with me. Outside of Robert I've always been in control and it may be a hard habit to break."

Patrick gives me a big squeeze. "Just hearing you say you'll try means more to me than you can ever know." Then just as he had said he would, he backs me in to the wall behind us, crushing me with his body as his mouth descends on mine. His hands are flat against the wall on either side of my face as he leans down to kiss me. There are no light kisses this time, no gentle swipes of his tongue. He is literally devouring my mouth as his tongue plunges through my lips and locks with mine. His uncontrolled passion causes my breath to escape me with a loud groan as my hands reach behind him, grab his ass, and pull him tight against me. He doesn't seem to care that I took this initiative and I feel him grind his hard length against my soft body.

His hands descend down my shoulders, arms and waist in one slow, firm drag leaving a trail of burning flesh until they reach my hips where he stops. His grip on me tightens and I can feel each finger pressing in to my flesh through my shorts and pulling me even closer. One of his legs moves between mine just enough so it is firmly nestled between them, his upper thigh tight against my cunt. I can feel his hard erection against my belly and my body responds with an explosion of wetness that soaks in to my panties and shorts. I feel my cunt lips swelling; clenching in a primitive need to be filled.

"Oh fuck, Corrine, I'm going to come in my shorts like a schoolboy if we don't stop now...." Patrick growls out between kisses.

"No.... No stopping. I can't..... Please...."

Patrick pulls back and is looking at me; really LOOKING at me. His are dark, pupils dilated, with almost fear in them. Could he be as thrown by this crazy chemistry we seem to have as I am?

"Ok... It's ok. I'm not going to stop, not just yet." With that, he abruptly drops to his knees, quickly undoing my belt and shorts, pulling them and my underwear down at the same time. It's then he realizes my boots are still on and lets out a choked laugh before sitting back on his heels, leaving me standing there trembling with need; my shorts down around my ankles. Feeling suddenly exposed and awkward, I reach for my shorts to pull them back up.

"Leave them." His voice is calm, yet firm. His first command. My first opportunity to obey. I stop what I'm doing and slowly stand straight again. My heart jumps as I watch his reaction to my compliance. His mouth opens slightly and he lets out his breath. This moment is not lost on him either.

Patrick slowly reaches forward and undoes my shoe laces, then pulls one, then the other boot off. My belt and shorts land with a thud on the floor, and he pulls them and my underwear free tossing them behind him.

"Spread your legs. You may rest your hands on the wall behind you or on my shoulders if you need to balance."

Again he watches me closely to see how I respond to his order. As if in a trance I spread my legs slowly until they're a bit more that shoulders length apart. He moves forward and I gently rest my hands on his shoulders, leaning slightly on the wall. Satisfied, Patrick leans forward towards my mostly trimmed pussy and breathes in deeply, closing his eyes as he does. I feel self-conscious and raw. I've never been embarrassed or ashamed of my essence, but we've just come from an intense hike and I'm sweaty and dirty and oh so very wet. Patrick's eyes open, briefly making contact with my own before he looks down again straight at my exposed pussy. He reaches forward with both hands, then with his rough thumbs pulls my outer lips apart revealing even more of myself to him. I can feel my cunt juice slide over my swollen inner lips and on to my thighs. My clit is swollen and pulsing, yet all he does is continue to look.

"Patrick," I tremble. "Please....please touch me. I can't take this..." My knees are visibly trembling and I'm now using his shoulders to support myself.

"Fuck", he says as his mouth descends on my inner right thigh where my juices have been leaking. Broad strokes of his tongue on my flesh cause my knees to weaken even more as I throw my head back and clamp my eyes closed. I first feel his hot breath, then his tongue on my pussy lips. He starts a slow exploration of my cunt; each fold licked, nibbled, and sucked on until I'm practically resting all of my weight on his shoulders and pure pleasure is coursing through my veins.