Tuesday Ch. 02

'Look Morgan, I'm just... just.... '

'Just what Ari?' She asks you.

What indeed. How do you tell her about the dreams? How do you explain the intense, disturbing fantasies that keep dominating all of your thoughts until you think you are losing your mind? How can you describe lovely yet banal and incredibly vanilla sex life you have with your husband that just isn't enough?

You look up at Morgan as she leans against the door jam with the fluffy towel wrapped around her. She just eyes you curiously and waits for you to answer her question.

'I'm dealing with my stuff Morgan. I am. I know you're worried about me and you think Padraic is being too hard on me... but he's not. He's holding back so that he... so that I don't have to explain... things to my husband.'

It comes rushing out of you like a river. You've been trying to understand it yourself for so long it seems like a blessing that Morgan is demanding that you explain yourself.

'I just... I keep having these really intense needs. It isn't a want, it's not something I read about or saw on television and wanted to try. It's a *need*. I need someone to use me the way they want to, no matter how cruel they are. I need them to not let me push back, to make me do things I wouldn't... couldn't normally do.'

A silence falls across the room. Morgan stares at you intensely. The towel wrapped around her torso loosens and you can see the bright gold gleam of the ring in her nipple. She doesn't notice and you suddenly feel embarrassed. She's still wrapped in a towel at least, but you're sitting in front of her literally physically and emotionally naked and trying to make her understand you.

You sigh, then try and continue.

'That.... That's how I met you. And Padraic. And it all just... happened. I was looking for something and I found him.'

He slips his arm around your stomach and gives you a gentle squeeze. You abruptly hug the limb to your chest and then lean down and kiss the back of his hand.

'Your husband... have you ever talked to him about this?' Morgan asks you.

You freeze. You have tried to talk with him about this. But the words always come out in a jumbled mess and he doesn't seem to understand. Sometimes he even seems intimidated by what you ask him to do. He just isn't wired that way.

You nod your head silently and look at the floor again.

'Did it not go well? Was he... did he...?' Morgan asks you with legitimate concern in her voice.

'It just didn't. He doesn't understand why I feel this way and he certainly doesn't feel comfortable with some... most of my... needs. He's not even comfortable tying me up.'

A silence falls across the room again. You feel your shoulders slump as you try not to feel frustrated.

'I always feel... just... incredibly guilty. Always. But before I found Padraic, it was driving me insane. I'd dream it all the time. It was distracting me at home. I couldn't focus on anything. I was starting to just... hate my husband because I needed something so simple but he... he just...'

'He doesn't understand.' Morgan finishes for you.

'Yeah. That.' You say with resignation.

A silence falls across the room. You're too lost in your own hurtful memories and your own shame to realize that Morgan has fallen silent as well.

'Does it feel so shameful to be here girl?' Padraic whispers in your ear.

You nod. It does. You need to be here. You need to release this from you. It doesn't make it feel like any less of a betrayal, but you have to do it or you would go mad. Or at least it feels like you would.

'Well maybe we can help you with that.' Padraic murmurs to you again.

You don't know what he means by that. But you do have a disturbing sensation that your relationship with Padraic just became more... complex.

Your discussion with Morgan seems to bring the evening to a close. She dresses and heads out with a pleasant wave. You wave back and repress violent thoughts about her. You know that she didn't plan this evening, you know that Padraic designed the entire evening from start to finish. And you know he

Still, you literally ache between your legs. Between the friction of the rope and the lack of release over the last fourteen days, your sex is an intensely throbbing distraction.

And as near as you can tell, you've barely been here a couple of hours. You came here, got dressed, walked to his apartment and then watched Morgan fuck him while you laid there and tried not to strangle yourself. Then you got interrogated and walked back here.

That doesn't make you happy. You feel a little short-changed.

You follow Padraic through the alleys and between the garbage and detritus. The intense play without relief has heightened your senses. You feel exhausted and yet oddly hypersensitive. The chill night air hardens your nipples and brings gooseflesh to your skin. You rub your palms against your arms and try to coax warmth from your body.

The nylons and corset bring no warmth to you at all, and neither does Padraic. He just marches briskly back to the bar, appearing oddly lost in thought.

The collar is oddly hot however.

The walk is quiet and he reaches the rear entrance ahead of you and holds the door open. You scamper inside into the moderately warmer building and head for the back room.

You're standing there shivering as Padraic wanders in behind you and plunks down in one of the metal chairs. He looks at you impassively.

You sigh and start to unlatch the collar to get dressed.

Padraic looks at you oddly as you begin to slip out of the gear he chose for you.

'What are you doing girl?' He asks with an irritated tone.

You pause. You thought you were done. Three thoughts immediately rip through your brain.

You're not done.

You're in trouble.

You're not done AND you're in trouble. And this last thought puts a smile on your face.

'I'm sorry sir. I was getting dressed. I thought we were finished.' You say calmly.

'Not quite girl. Come here.' Padraic growls at you as he plunks down on his metal folding chair.

You shuffle towards him, trying not to feel awkward in the shoes you've been wearing all evening and suddenly feeling intensely naked. A smile creeps across your face. He's wearing that look he gets when he's plotting something for you.

It's a good look. It suits him well. It arouses you.

You creep closer and he suddenly reaches out and pulls you into his lap. You squeak as you abruptly embrace him, your palms flatten against his chest to prevent yourself from smacking into him.

He's thin, bony and wiry. And hot. He's always hot. His skin is almost fiery to your touch and his face is flushed and pink.

You can feel the erection throbbing beneath his ever present jeans. You remember how good it felt to have him inside you, and how agonizing it was to watch him pleasure someone else tonight.

That thought coaxes a little sound from you. Not a painful sound, per se, more of an intense whine. The games he plays with you sometimes leave you in such a state. So aroused and so vulnerable and sometimes feeling so brittle you think you might shatter.

Not that you complain about that. It's absolutely what you want from him.

His hand slides up your thigh and grips your buttock firmly. A couple of thin yet strong fingers trail across the lips of your sex and you tremble slightly at the suddenly intimate touch. You feel that familiar surge in your belly, like a burst of fire and arousal exploding in you.

You nuzzle into his neck and plant soft, tender kisses on his skin and press your forehead into his cheek before you can even consider it.

A hand grips your hair firmly and pulls you back. You don't so much groan as you purr. It feels so right when he manhandles you a little. Or a lot.

'Girl. Take a breath. We need to talk a little.' He says calmly, but with a hint of smile on his face.

Ah... poop. You can't recall any conversation that started with 'We need to talk' ever going well.

'Yes sir. Of course sir.' You lean forward and nibble on his neck again and hope that you can distract him from the conversation.

He chuckles a little, then a hand slips up your slender abdomen and across the leather corset you slipped into. He cups your left breast and gives it a gentle squeeze. For a moment you think he might feel amorous, but a pair of vice like fingers seize your nipple and twist it hard.

You squeak loudly and freeze. You don't mind this, but your first reaction is to freeze up and he knows it.

'If I didn't know better girl, I'd swear you were trying to distract me.' He half whispers, half hisses in your ear.

'No sir. Not at all.' You warble. His vicious grip on your flesh makes it hard to do anything but to listen to him.

He watches your face for a second, then slowly releases the little bud of flesh locked between his fingers. You shiver as he does so. It hurt, but you like it when he does things like this. He consistently reminds you that he's in control and you are not and that's the way you like it.

Except that now he wants to talk to you. Dang it.

'So tell me more about your husband girl.' He says finally.

There are a lot of things you thought you might be talking about, but that isn't one of them. Naturally, you respond in a graceful and composed manner.

'What?!' Is all you manage to respond.

'Your husband girl. Why are you here? Why can't he take care of these needs for you? Is he literally just.... not into it?' Padraic asks you calmly but firmly.

'I just... he... I.... Dammit sir, why do you want to know that?' You stammer and trip over your words until you finally blurt out that response.

You regret the words the moment you say them. It's about the least submissive thing you've ever done with him. To his credit, he doesn't get angry with you, he just smiles a little half smile at you.

And wow is THAT infuriating.

'Sir... really, I just... I'd rather.... not... bring my husband into this. That's all. Please. Wouldn't you rather take me over to one of those... things and do.... stuff... to me?' You gesture at the wide array of equipment in the back room. Some of these devices are intimidating and confusing and a couple are downright terrifying to you, but you feel that whatever he decided to do to you there would probably be more comfortable than this conversation.

He doesn't bite. He just looks you in the eye calmly and slides his hand up your spine, his fingers trickling over your vertebrae one after the other until his hand is on the back of your neck and he gives it a firm but gentle squeeze. It isn't painful and it isn't meant to be. It's an unfamiliar gesture, but it's one that makes you feel more controlled and at the same time more in control of your own emotions.

'How do you do that?' You quietly ask him.

'Do what?'

'You touch me sometimes... or you say or do things to me that even I don't understand how I'm going to respond to them, but they always feel right. It's like you know... what my buttons are and exactly how to push them.' You say with a sigh, and then lean forward and abruptly hug him.

God being Tuesday is complicated sometimes, you think to yourself. It would feel therapeutic if there wasn't so much sex and sadism.

Or maybe it feels more like therapy for those exact reasons. You aren't sure. You just know that until you stumbled into... whatever this is you were going crazy and now that you have him in your life you finally feel grounded and stable and sated.

'He used to try. He used to sir.' You finally whisper in his ear.

'Used to what girl?'

'He used to try and be... dominant... I guess. He tried.' You say with a touch of sadness.

'So what happened girl? Why are you here now?'

'I... I guess I screwed it up.'

'How exactly did you screw it up?'

You sit quietly in his lap for a second. Your arousal is forgotten. Your aches and pains from tonight are pushed aside. He's digging at the root of your issues and you don't know why.

It doesn't feel mean. It doesn't feel like a ploy to get into your head. You just aren't sure if you feel comfortable talking about it. This is a nice arrangement for you. You get what you need and you get it just regularly enough to keep in control of yourself.

'Sir... please. I just don't... I don't know. I really don't feel comfortable talking about it.' You say finally.

'Ari. Look at me.' He says gently, and he slips his hand under your chin and gradually makes you meet his gaze.

He's not angry or upset, but he is intensely focused on you.

'I am never going to judge you or castigate you girl for asking you a question. You know me. But you have a problem and we need to try and fix it.'

'Why sir? Why can't we just.... be?'

'I said it before girl, and I meant it. All things come to an end. And while I do enjoy your company, I'd rather we stopped doing this than blow up your marriage because you can't talk about a problem.'

Damn him.

You unconsciously pound a fist on his chest in frustration. Any other time that would have been a serious offense, but he merely says 'Ow.', and then he waits for your response.

'I push sir. I push. That's what happened.' You say finally.

'You push?'

'All the time. I push with you sometimes but you never let me get away with it. You punish me when I push back and... and that's what I need. And he doesn't understand that.' You finally blurt it out.

'Really? He just isn't dominant with you?'

'It's not that he hasn't tried, but I... I started pushing back to try and get him to... to... take control I guess. I wanted him to take it from me.' Your voice catches on a hitch as you think back to those nights in the bedroom when you tried to play a game with your husband.

It should have been a fun game. It didn't turn out that way.

'So what happened when you pushed?'

'He didn't push back. He just... he didn't. He conceded.'

Padraic just waits.

'It sucked sir. He was good and kinky with me until I tried to ... I don't know, motivate him to be even more dominant with me and I pushed him in the other direction. It's like he's... intimidated by me now.'

'I see.'

'He's not like you sir. You're just... naturally dominant. He's not.'

Padraic abruptly laughs; you've said something that he really finds amusing.

You feel a little embarrassed as he laughs and you look away for a moment. You think you'd almost rather he hurt you than laugh at you.

'Girl, you have no idea... 'He says to you finally.

'Sir?' Is all you can think to respond with.

'I think we can fix this issue with your husband girl.' He finally says in a completely calm manner.

'How are we going to fix it?' You ask him, confused by how certain he seems.

'We are going to give your husband back an intense sense of control girl. And then he'll do what comes naturally.'

'And how are we going to do that sir?' You ask him with sceptical tone.

'Oh don't worry Tuesday, I have a plan.' Padraic says with a vicious little smile and you practically feel him drop back into the role of cruel dominant.

'Yay plan?' You say in a tiny voice.

He smiles at you again, and then his free hand slides up your thigh and squeezes your buttock again. His hand on your neck pulls you forward and he abruptly kisses you hard and aggressively.

You don't even have to think about it, you drop back into the headspace you reserve for Tuesday and let him seize control. His hands and lips start to roam over your body and you don't resist at all, even when his fingers are less than gentle and he starts to take what he wants from your body.

After all, this is what you want too.

'Yay' plan indeed.

You spend the next forty five to fifty minutes being subjected to what you can only describe as moderately violent petting. Padraic's hands and mouth roam your body and he simply does what he wants to you for a while. Strong fingers pinch and probe and delve and his stubbled face scrapes and abrades as teeth nip and bite you in places that are sensitive and delicate.

It's overpowering and savage and wonderful. Watching Morgan ride him while you fought to breathe had been brutal. Now his hands punish your flesh and you have his full attention and while you squeal and moan and squirm, you wouldn't trade this for anything.

He keeps working you like a toy, pushing your buttons and dragging his fingers across your clitoris as he cruelly brings you to the brink of orgasm again and again and then lets it subside until your stomach is almost cramping from your clenched muscles and your pelvis throbs.

'Oh god sir, you're killing me.' You pant in his ear.

He just chuckles, and his bony digits slip between your legs and inside you and trail across that completely over stimulated part of your body that just throbs with need. You groan and buck against him, so desperate for release that you literally leave a wet stain on his jeans.

'Shall I fuck with you girl?' He growls into your ear. His lips and teeth and tongue lick, kiss and nibble on your earlobe and the delicate skin along your neck and jawbone.

'Please sir. Please do.' You answer without hesitation. Your body is so aroused that you can hear your pulse frantically pounding in your ears and you can smell the perspiration and arousal streaming from your skin. You swear it feels like you are about to burst into flame.

Abruptly, Padraic stands up. He easily supports your weight with his long and lean body as you cling to him like a spider monkey.

'Do you mind girl?' He says with some annoyance.

'Sorry sir.' You whimper in response as you relax your grip on him.

God DAMN he has you in a state. It's been almost two weeks since you've had an orgasm and it's like your insides are vibrating with desperate, unyielding need. Every time he slips his hand between your thighs and touches your sex it feels like an electric shock.

You want to cling to him. It takes every last morsel of your self control to do what he tells you to do. Reluctantly you release your grip on his shirt and step back from him.

He eyes your trembling, lusting body for a moment. Then his hand rises from his side like a snake and slides behind your neck. Fingers grip your hair tightly as he bends your head back and casually takes control of you. You exhale a breath you didn't know you were holding and your eyes half close at his touch.

This is what submission feels like to you. It's so intense, so utterly encompassing. Every nerve ending tingles and your stomach knots and clenches. Your skin is flush with goose pimples and the tingling sensations rolls up and down your spine and back into your scalp. Your fingers tremble as you quietly pant and gasp.

And you are so aroused, so incredibly wet.

You know some people would never understand this. It doesn't matter. You crave this aching, unbelievably vulnerable yet supremely satisfying sensation. You know he's just plotting the next cruel or vicious thing he's going to do to you and you just hope that he'll stop holding back and REALLY make you feel it.

You want him to let go. You need to feel him as cruel as he can be.

You stopped trying to understand why you need this long ago. You just do. And now you're here, naked, vulnerable, submissive and you just need him to do one... more... thing. For you. To you.

'Please sir...' You whisper.

Please. Pretty please. With sugar on top.

Padraic looks at you and raises an eyebrow. You've managed to surprise him somehow, which you almost never seem to be able to do.

'Please what Ari?'

He uses your real name, and not 'Tuesday' or girl or some other derogatory nickname. You revel in the knowledge that you for once actually have surprised him.

You look up at him in haze. Tonight has been so intense already and he's spent the last sixty minutes teasing, tormenting and arousing you to the point where you feel like you barely exist outside of a set of impulses and screaming needs.