Stoned Submission Ch. 13

Chapter 13: A Picture is Worth...

*****

The morning air rippled, light and cool after the rain, through Grady's bedroom window. The sun was soft, pastel yellow, promising a gentler day after the chaotic electrical storm that had raged the previous night.

Grady slept sprawled out on his stomach, blankets pulled up to ward off the chill. His black hair was a riot of curls, a tangled mess, face shadowed and scratchy. One golden arm stretched out to the space in bed Annika would have lain had she not slipped out, like a thief in the night, at first light.

Something -- the quiet click of the front door maybe, birds singing in salutation, morning walkers chattering -- disturbed him, stirred him. He rolled over expecting to find warmth of another body but was met with cold sheets.

He thought Annika before murmuring her name and groggily blinking his eyes open.

Propped on her pillow -- still indented from her head -- was a note.

-- Saluting the sun. At our spot. Love, A. --

Grady rolled to his back and rubbed hands over his face -- thought fleetingly to shave -- before sitting up. Remnants of their activities the previous night remained. Ropes tied to the headboard, a wedge pillow discarded on the floor, the U-shaped vibrator on the bedside table.

Picking up his phone -- fuck, six-thirty? -- Grady swung his legs over the side of the bed and texted Annika.

G: Don't mean to interrupt your salutes. Will jog to the beach. Coffee's on me. See you in thirty.

Having thrown on some old running shorts and long-sleeved shirt, Grady splashed cold water on his face to wake up. He'd have preferred waking up properly with Annika, but settled for the cold instead of her warmth.

With Girl Talk's Feed the Animals blasting in his ears, Grady laced his shoes at the front door and set a steady pace down his street. As he dodged and weaved his way around puddles and spots of mud, he felt his mind clear and was able to focus on nothing but the feel of his feet hitting the pavement, the beat drumming in his ears.

But he couldn't help but see Annika trussed to his bed, overcome with pleasure as Owen and Ezra consumed her.

The flare of anger when Jude had slapped her.

Remembering that -- hearing it echo in his mind -- made Grady grit his teeth and push his pace, lungs screaming, chest aching. And despite the cool morning, sweat flopped his brow, outlined a wet V down the front of his grey shirt.

Grady rounded the corner and came in to view with the beach. He slowed his pace, felt himself relax upon inhaling crisp salty air. Knowing Annika was near. Easing into a brisk walk as to not seize up, he pulled his shirt up to wipe away sweat before clasping his hands over his head as he regained his breath.

Having ordered coffee -- long black for him, strong latte for her -- Grady sat on a wooden box by the West Beach Bathers Pavilion to wait for his name to be called. And simply breathed in the ocean. Seagulls were already cawing and begging for breakfast scraps, and eager surfers were bobbing in the water, catching waves brought on by the storm.

"Order for Grady!"

Grady looked over his shoulder to see a tall, lanky redhead standing at the edge of the deck, holding his takeaway coffee cups. He stood, lifted a hand and made his way to her.

"Cheers," he said and noticed her appreciative smile.

Yeah, but you'll change your mind if I tell you I'm in an open relationship, he thought, but returned her smile, lifting a cup in thanks.

He pondered that as he moved down to the water -- firmer sand on which to tread -- to make his way to Annika. The guys last night barely questioned him when he told them about his and Annika's new... arrangement. Hadn't blinked when he proffered they come to his room to help her fulfil a fantasy.

Maybe guys were less threatened by the idea of an open relationship and... playing with a committed couple. The woman he'd hit on in Sydney had rebuffed him the moment he'd told her of his girlfriend, like he was no better than the layer of filth coating the bar's floor.

Sipping his coffee, he wondered at his lack of jealousy the night before. If anything, there was a sense of pride, possession. Annika was sexy, desirable, insatiable. And she was his. It was intensely erotic, seeing her body a slave to pleasure, her eyes seeking his through it all, shining with love and trust and want.

Was it simply because he'd been there? Been part of it?

Approaching a small inlet, Grady turned, looked up the dunes to see Annika holding a strong Warrior Pose. She was wearing his black Lyrca bike shorts -- where the fuck had she found those? -- and his Wanderers football jersey from his season playing in Darwin.

He smiled remembering those hot stormy nights, the heady feeling of falling in love, the despair at the thought of leaving, wondering what would come of their relationship and the bond they'd formed.

"I can sell flowers anywhere," she'd said. And thank fuck she did.

Having removed his shoes, he made his way up the incline, quads screaming at him as his feet sunk into the soft sand. He sat next to her set up, knees bent and leaning back on one elbow, sipping at his coffee in companionable silence as she concluded her sequence.

Sensing its end, Grady sat up, crossed his legs and brought his palms together in prayer pose to finish with her.

Namaste. I honour the place in you in which the universe dwells. I honour the place in you which is of love, of truth, of light, and of peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are one.

She looked over at him, the sun illuminating half her face, smiled and leaned over to kiss him.

"Good morning," she murmured.

"Morning," he smiled, passing her the coffee cup.

"Oh, my Buddha, yes. Thank you." She took a long sip, her free hand finding his, fingers lacing.

"You okay?" he asked, thumb stroking her knuckles, eyes following the surfers' zig-zagging moves over the water.

She squeezed his hand, took another hit of caffeine. "I'm okay. Are you?"

He turned his head then, saw she was looking at him intensely, her eyes bright, reflecting the sun and surf. He leaned in and kissed her again, gently prying her lips open with the tip of his tongue, absorbing the bitter aftertaste of coffee on her breath.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said when he eased back. "Was a little worried when I saw you gone this morning."

She smiled softly, closed the space between them so they were sitting hip to hip. "Was more than a little stiff after last night. And I needed to clear my head."

Grady took a final mouthful of his coffee, looked around for a bin, settled with sticking the empty cup in the yawning mouth of his shoe. He reclined on his hands, one arm crossed behind Annika's back so he could caress her hip.

"Yeah, we didn't talk too much last night, did we?"

She smiled, leaning back a little against him, shook her head. "You took a long shower. And I was pretty exhausted."

"And Owen?" he asked softly.

She turned then, rested her forehead against his. "He just needed a little TLC away from it all."

"Yeah, poor bastard. He's, ah, easily excited, huh?"

"Don't tease. He was overwhelmed with it all. He doesn't know you noticed."

Grady sighed. "I know. I'm not after ragging him."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I know you're not. And the others didn't see, did they?"

"Don't think so. Ezra wouldn't say anything if he did. Jude..." he made a sound, tilted his hand from side to side, indicating a fifty-fifty shot.

"He doesn't have what we have," she sighed. "No one to debrief with after. So, keep an eye on him, okay?"

Grady kissed the top of her head. "Okay."

* * *

Annika's moans bounced off the slate grey tiles of Grady's bathroom and her bones melted under the hot spray, dissolved as Grady's soap slick hands sluiced up her body to cup her breasts. Her head lolled to the side, exposing the long curve of her neck and shoulder, inviting Grady to lower his lips. Hands gently kneading, tugging, pulling, he set his teeth on her, giving her the thrill of contrast between soft and sharp.

"Mmm, fuck baby," Annika sighed, one arm lifting to grip the sodden hair at the back of Grady's neck.

He continued to slowly grind against her backside, his cock pleasantly alive with the smooth friction. He moved his lips up to her ear, breathing heavily, tongue pressing against the soft shell. Her nails raked the base of his skull, digging into flesh as she rolled her hips, trying to entice him.

Grady smiled against her skin, trailed kisses down to her shoulder, up again to bite at her earlobe before spinning her around. His hands moved around to cup her ass and he lifted her, pressing her back against the cool tiles.

"Wrap your legs around me baby," he murmured as the water hit him square between the shoulder blades.

Annika hooked her ankles at the small of Grady's back, encircled his neck and shoulders with her arms, fingers buried in his hair. She angled his face to hers, but didn't kiss him. They were both opened mouthed and panting, breathing in each other's hot breath, each gasp fuelling their need.

With his hands under her ass, Grady tilted her pelvis to his, pressed the tip of his throbbing cock against her core. He felt her pull her pelvic floor in, an attempt to grip and suck him right into her. He smiled against her lips, breath tangling as he teased, pushing against, pulling away.

Before giving in to her need, his need, with a gentle thrust.

The metallic blue of her eyes went opaque with desire -- a demand for more -- hips rocking in every effort for him to fully bury himself inside her. But he held back, denied Nika that quick release and continued at his achingly slow and shallow pace.

And then she said his name as he'd wanted her to say it.

With a growl, he sheathed himself to the hilt inside her, feeling her heat spread and engulf his shaft like steaming velvet. Their twin groans of pleasure were lost under the cascade of water, as was the sharp slap of skin on skin as he began to move.

Tiles cold at her back, his body heating her front, Annika sucked in air so thick that breathing it in, letting it go, was only a moan. Her body was as pliant as wax bathed in sunlight, but inside. Inside she was fire, flashpoint ignited, silken flames spreading the burn, pushing, pushing, for escape.

She raked her nails down his beaded back leaving a trail of passion. Her thighs clamped around his hips as the tip of his cock exploited all her secrets -- even the ones she'd already shared with him. Giving into the pleasure, she closed her eyes

"No," he growled. "You. Look at me. See me."

On a shaky moan, Annika blinked away droplets of water, drowning in the swirling chocolate of his eyes, drowning in Nika's relentless riptides.

"Grade..." she whispered, pushing him to increase the tempo of his thrusts, feeling her quicken, cunt fisting, promising to never let go.

"More," he demanded. "More until there's nothing left." He looked down to where they joined, swaying on that high wire between the need to prolong and the triumph of release as he watched his cock sink into her over and over.

"Ah, fuck," she said moments before burying her face in his neck, levering herself against his hips, her thighs gripping him, arms wrapped around like silken vines. He felt her shatter -- a wire snapping against the weight of sensation -- and he gripped a hand in her hair, covering her mouth with his as he fell with her.

* * *

"So," Grady said, rubbing a towel over his head. "You said something yesterday about loose plans to see Lucille this weekend. Yeah?"

Annika neatly tucked the corners of her towel between her breasts before combing out her hair. Her eyes found his in the mirror's reflection. "Yeah. But that's just what they are. Loose."

Grady dropped the towel to the floor, took Annika's comb and slowly brushed it through her hair, slicking it to the side so he could lean down and kiss the curve of her shoulder.

"I've got Tyson's buck's tonight," he said as the comb's teeth made Annika's scalp prickle. His eyes met hers in the mirror. "So... you should tighten them," he smiled, handing the comb back and disappearing into the bedroom.

Tighten them? Annika thought, watching his rear end's reflected retreat. How?

She bent at the waist to shake out her hair, deciding to let it dry naturally with its beach-wavy curl. Still pondering Grady's statement, she neatly hung her towel on the rack before entering his room. She retrieved yesterday's underwear and jersey dress from the unmade bed, frowned as she dressed herself.

Seeing her think so hard made Grady grin.

"Tighten them, how?" she finally asked.

Grady rolled his tongue over his teeth, took his phone out of his back pocket.

"Don't be mad. I don't think you'll be mad," he muttered as he swiped the screen, tap, tap, tapping. "But you can be sneaky about that stuff." He held it out for her to see. "I took this while you were too blazed to notice."

And there she was, in full naked glory. The high angle taken from between her legs captured everything; the look of stoned submission on her face, nipples cherried with lust, her skin slick in the glowing red light.

And Nika.

It was as though Nika smiled directly up to the camera.

Annika gulped, brought a hand to her throat.

"And you're showing me this because?"

Grady rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dense. Make Lucille tighten those plans."

"With... this?"

"Why not?"

Annika's eyes flicked from the explicit image to Grady's face. Bit her lip.

"Don't make me make you," he said softly, the sound prickling her skin had Nika flooding with heat.

Cheeks prettily pink, Annika pushed Grady's hand back to him and said, "You do it."

He sighed -- asked for Lucille's Snapchat handle -- brought the picture up and hovered over the text symbol.

"Tell me what to write," he said, daring Nika to make herself present without the aid of weed.

"Tell her..." again, Annika's hand fluttered to her throat, "tell her we need to tighten those plans. Because Nika wants her to fuck her like this. To turn her into her dirty dyke sex toy."

Grady hummed in approval, tapped out the message, positioned the text just so between Annika's thighs, held the phone up for approval.

You need to tighten those plans because Nika wants you to fuck her just like this. Turn her into your dirty dyke sex toy.

Annika lifted her eyes to Grady, nodded.

"Perfect."

* * *

Completely unaware that she was being baited, Lucille sat out on her post-stamp patio and lazed over her third cup of coffee. She read the Saturday papers with mild interest, not wanting to fill her brain with nonsense on her first day off in over five weeks.

She had plans for Vibe, game-changing plans, and had fought tooth and nail to gain approval from all appropriate parties. She shook her head thinking over the last board meeting -- men all over fifty, stuffed shirts, really, and all of whom lacked the balls to give the Esplanade what it needed.

A spa. One that offered limited, exclusive membership.

Why do we need a spa, they said, when we have the beach? Why would people pay for something they can get outside for free?

Lucille smirked, cupped her mug in both hands, leaning back against her chair to look over the ocean, and thanked the powers that be that the board wasn't privy to -- or even required to approve of -- the explicit nature of the recently approved space.

One she knew couldn't be "found for free" outside.

Once a Madam, always a Madam, right? No matter how you dressed it up.

Ignoring the alert from her phone -- no work today, please -- Lucille meandered inside to brew her fourth cup. Her addiction was eroding her insides for sure, but of all the vices available to her, this was the least destructive.

Her eyes flickered over to the hot tub, the balcony rail free from shrubbery just beyond it.

Even the more destructive vices held appeal.

Picking up her phone on the way back outside -- she was a glutton for punishment -- she was pleased to see a Snapchat notification, and not a work email.

Smiling, she tapped open the application, but frowned over the unknown handle, grama86. She pursed her lips, took a sip of coffee, and contemplated accepting. With a shrug, she did so and almost choked on her drink.

You need to tighten those plans because Nika wants you to fuck her just like this. Turn her into your dirty dyke sex toy.

"Fuck," Lucille breathed as she took in the image. Annika splayed over the bed, lifted like an erotic offering; her face passive and calm, breasts tight and proud, pussy pink and moist. Lucille subconsciously licked her bottom lip as she zeroed in on the folds between Annika's thighs. She'd yet to sample her submissive neighbour directly from the source, and felt her own cunt ache with the need to do so.

She made a mild sound of annoyance when the image flicked away, but tapped again to replay. To greedily consume that image again. To have it burn into her retinas.

Her eyes went bottle-green sharp with desire, her nipples ached with tension, and she felt saliva pool under her tongue.

"Game on," she whispered and texted Annika.

L: I have the weekend off. Come on over whenever you're... free.

Lucille then wandered through her apartment, to the spare room that next door, Annika used as a yoga studio.

Instead of exposed brick and Buddha, Lucille's room was painted dark, charcoal grey. With an almost metallic sheen to it; not at all dissimilar to a lead pencil. Only darker.

Experimentally, Lucille flicked on the light, enjoying the new deep cherry-red globes she'd fitted. Added something.

On the walls hung black and white photographs of naked women from the 1920s. Some photos were of a single woman -- sometimes in high heels, sometimes lounging as though napping -- and other photos depicted two, three women in various positions of ecstasy.

In the centre of the room stood a 'dungeon bed'. A king-sized four poster with top crossbars, curtain rods and other holders for various use. Built into the base of the bed was a draw, filled to the brim with various crops, paddles, bindings and toys.

To the right of the bed hung a swing -- one of Lucille's favourites -- that she couldn't wait to tangle Annika up in.

Leaning against the doorframe, picturing Annika in every imaginable position, Lucille crossed her arms and nodded.

"Let's see how far she's willing to fall down the rabbit hole," she murmured before she wandered in to look over items she wanted to use, to scatter throughout her home. To prepare.

* * *

Sucking on the straw of a strawberry Big M, Annika knocked thrice on Lucille's door. Wondered at her movements as though in slow-motion. The milk -- spiked with her smoky exhalations -- made her feel lethargic, heavy.

Horny.

Lucille opened the door to Annika looking bright and fresh in a blush-pink palm-tree pattern skirt, seductively sucking on that straw, and felt the morning's tension disappear upon seeing her neighbour. Since receiving that picture, she'd had little else on her mind.

Then she grinned, noticing Annika's cheerful, dopey smile, eyes no more than puffy slits, and sluggish stance.

"Are you okay?" she asked, closing the door behind them with a quiet click.

"Fine," Annika said, moving through Lucille's home with great familiarity despite this being her second visit. "Just super stoned."

"I see." Lucille looked bemused as Annika fell down to the couch, a sluggish sloth, her thin shirt blending into the pristine white material. "Can I get you some water?"