What Comes Next?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story contains some bondage, anal, and non-consent elements, and was originally posted in "Loving Wives".

*****

Max looked down at Karen and smiled at the sight before him—her arms and legs taut, stretching to the four intricately carved bedposts of Max's walnut four-poster. Leather manacles wrapped around her wrists and ankles, linked by delicate strands of chain to the darkened wood posts, creating the illusion that she was held by invisible bonds. Karen whimpered into the ball gag and turned her head, her tangled nest of shoulder-length, auburn curls framing the alabaster skin of her face as she struggled to see through the black silk scarf which blindfolded her. Max read the tension and anticipation in her body as it fed his own growing hunger, the rise and fall of her chest and the futile but instinctive arch of her back against the mattress filling his view. The sight of Karen eagerly helpless quickened Max's pulse as he considered what repayment to exact from her.

It had been twenty hours since Karen's turn. Max knew he would long remember his exquisite submission to her, the mix of pain, excitement, and surrender he experienced when she gently stroked his lower back with soothing caresses. Max recalled the nervous vulnerability he felt as she pressed forward, the head of a slim dildo she'd chosen to wear slipping past his inner band of muscle and sliding into his body. Max's hardened cock twitched at the memory of how he'd struggled upon realizing what Karen had planned. Still, he'd been amazed by how his body responded, how he'd grunted and gasped to realize that the crease of her hips had met his buttocks and she'd driven eight inches of unyielding lifelike latex deep into his bowels until it bottomed out. She had gently, insistently fucked him with languorous deep strokes, slowly at first but with increasing speed and force. The subsequent orgasm rocked him deeply, forcing his body to buck uncontrollably against her as his balls drew tight and jetted stream after stream of cum from his cock across the bed.

Now it was Max's turn to return the favor, and he had a long and intricate torture of the senses planned. He reached for the drawer and—

"Mike? Mike, are you still working??"

"Wha--… what did you say, Kate?"

"Mike, it's nearly midnight. Aren't you going to get some sleep? You're exhausting yourself like this and we've got to go to my folks' place tomorrow, remember? You were going to help Roy put the grill together?"

I squeezed my eyes shut to ease the screen-burn I'd developed from staring at my computer for the last three hours and awkwardly shifted the throbbing lump in my jeans. "Yeah, Kate, I know." I sighed. "I just got kind of wrapped up in this thing and wanted to get past this bit. You know how I get when I'm writing contracts."

"I know, honey, I know. But please, come to bed. You've got the rest of the weekend to work on it."

I shook my head a few times to clear it, saved the document, and powered the computer down before heading downstairs from the office. Max and Karen were going to have to wait until I could find time to write what comes next.

I brushed my teeth, quietly changed clothes in the half-light of our bedroom and slipped under the covers. Kate was already curled up and half-asleep. She faced away from me, her breathing soft and rhythmic. I curled up behind her and savored the curve of her waist against the crook of my elbow as I snaked my hand between her breasts. The images of what I'd been writing lingered as my cock lolled fat and thick against my thigh in semi-erection, lazily hopeful that it might return to its previously rock-hard state.

"Mmmmmpphh?" Kate mumbled as I kissed the nape of her neck. I turned my hand to cup her breast and gently rolled her nipple between my finger and thumb. There was a time when she might have smiled, rolled towards me, and kissed my mouth as her hand sought to restore my shaft to its throbbing glory. But tonight she literally shrugged off the advances, her shoulder pushing against my arm as she removed the offending hand from her chest.

"Mike, come onnn.... It's way too late, and we're going to be up early tomorrow."

"I know." I sighed.

"I'm tired. I need to sleep. It's already after midnight!"

I sighed again, knowing where this was going and already regretting my advance. Now I was caught in the crosshairs.

"Damn it, why are you up so late working on this stuff anyway? It took me an hour to fall asleep in the first place because I knew you were going to come in here eventually and wake me up. I kept listening for you to come to bed. You always do this… always! You get caught up in whatever it is that you've got running around in your head and it's like I don't exist until you come to bed and want to fuck. Did you think about what I might want? Did it occur to you that I'm not interested in fucking at one in the morning?"

Her voice rose and her eyes widened with anger in the dim light as she got into full swing.

"Look, I'm sorry… really, I am. I was just trying to—"

"Trying to what? What were you trying to do, Mike? Seduce me? Was that it? At one o'clock in the fucking morning? When I've been picking up after you all night long while you were locked in your little cave working on your stupid fucking contract?"

"I—"

"Did you ever stop to think about me? Did you even stop to think? It's Friday night, I'm exhausted from the week's work, you're completely lost in your little world, and it's like I'm not even here. I could just get up and walk out the door and you wouldn't even notice, would you? Would you?"

Here we go, I thought -- again.

"Jesus, Katie, of course I'd notice! And I do think about you! Christ, I think about you all the time! But you keep picking away at me like this, and I suddenly feel like I'm in the doghouse for everything I've ever done with you. And now we're sitting here arguing in the middle of the night, and I have no idea what the heck we're arguing about!"

She laid there, eyes wide and mouth shut tight. I could have gone on and on and explained or defended or asked anything, and all I would have received in return was silence and that hurt, angry glare that seemed to come from nowhere. The wall was up, the battlements armed, and I knew any approach at this point would either trigger a descent into a very dark place for her or unleash an all-out assault.

I stopped and just looked at her for a while. After a few minutes, she sighed and rolled over. I watched her in the dim light, noticing as her breathing changed from angry, controlled breaths—was she crying?—and began to deepen as she slowly, inexorably drifted off. I wanted to hold her and ease the hurt but I knew that it would only set her off – her anger was focused on me and it wasn't even so much what I'd done as who I was.

So I rolled onto my side facing away from her at 2:30 in the morning and tried to let things go enough so I might get some sleep of my own.

******

The next morning, I found myself awake around 5:00 with my mind mulling over a thousand different things: the sink in the kitchen that was draining slowly, the four phone calls I'd neglected to return to the office, the maintenance service I had to bring the car in for. Kate was still fast asleep and I knew from past experience that she'd sleep a good while longer. I also knew that I wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep myself, so I slipped out of bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen where I put the coffee on to brew. "Nothing to clear your mind at 5:00 in the morning like a good cup of coffee," I told myself.

I sat and just drifted for a bit while the dark, sensual aroma of fresh-ground Sumatran coffee filled the kitchen. I was brooding, and I knew it. Kate and I had gotten to a place where I felt like I was spending every moment with her dodging the critical comments and flashes of anger she'd hurl my way. There didn't seem to be any way to bridge that gap, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what I'd done to deserve this kind of treatment from her.

An affair wasn't in the cards for me – I might have pulled it off, but I wasn't about to risk blowing ten years of a solid relationship with a woman I still loved just so I could get my rocks off a couple of times. I knew it wouldn't be for my own gratification anyways, but probably to get back at Kate for not returning my advances. So I started writing erotic fiction instead, where I knew I could safely live out whatever sexual whim or desire I could dream up. Since Kate showed little indication of being interested in sex at all, I knew there was no way she'd want to explore something like anal sex or humiliation or bondage or girl/girl, or anything like that.

For a long time, I had kept the stories to myself, but after a while curiosity got the best of me and I began to post them on Internet groups and websites to see what kind of response I would get. I never won awards, but I made a few friends along the way and even managed to develop a small following, getting fan email and encouragement from folks who liked what they read.

The more stories the readers asked me for, the more I gave. I'd sometimes take long showers in the morning, letting my hand stroke my engorged cock while my imagination spun fertile streams of lush porn with different versions of Kate as the leading starlet.

I'd imagine her eyes wide, gazing up at me with wicked approval as her lips sealed themselves against the shaft, her nose sinking into my pubic hair as she swallowed me deeply. I could almost feel her wet hair entwined between my fingers as I pictured her pulling away from me with a gasp, then smiling as she swallowed me down again, her head bobbing as I fought the urge to thrust into her hungry mouth, knowing that I'd lose it in a second if I did.

Marcus let his head fall back into the spray as Kellie sucked him deep, her tongue flat against the underside of his cock. He felt the tip touch his balls as she took him down to the root over and over. Rivers of hot shower water poured down his taut body as he struggled to catch his breath in the steam-filled stall. "God," he thought. "This woman is going to suck the life out of me!"

Kellie knew her mouth had Marcus at her mercy. She came up for air with a gasp and smiled at him as she wrapped her hand around the base and began to stroke him. "You like that, lover?" Marcus could only nod as his hand found the back of her head and urged her to continue.

"Good." Her hand gripped him. "'Coz I know you're going to love this."

With that, she slid him deep into her throat again with a moan, her hands grabbing the cheeks of his ass and pulling him to her until her nose was mashed against his body. Marcus felt the movement of her tongue and her throat muscles as she struggled against her gag reflex to keep him swallowed whole. Slowly, Kellie rocked her head back and forth as she slipped a hand between his legs to cup his balls. The sensation was unbelievable, as if she had managed to engulf his entire sex.

Kellie sensed that Marcus was beginning to lose it and she wanted him to completely give in to her. She released his balls and slipped the hand further back, her fingers delving between his cheeks to caress the puckered ridge of his asshole.

Marcus gasped at the sudden intrusion, but he was in no place to argue as he was balls-deep down Kellie's willing throat. And as he felt the tip of her finger press wetly into his ass, he grunted and thrust into her mouth but he had nowhere to go. He felt the slim digit probing deeper into his bowels and his cock swelled larger in response.

Kellie encouraged him with a moan as she sucked harder, inhaling him deeply as her finger stroked through the taut ring of muscle. She sensed the trembling in his muscled thighs as Marcus struggled to keep control.

"Jesus, Kel… I can't…oh, fuck!"

She pulled off for a second. "C'mon, Marcus, give it to me! Let it go, baby… just let it go…cum hard for me, lover," and then swallowed him deep again to the root with a growl.

With that, Marcus groaned and surrendered to her. The rush of his orgasm was so intense that it almost knocked the wind from him. Kellie gripped his cock at the base and milked him as jet after jet of Marcus' cum surged through the shower spray across her face, tongue, and eyes. She felt each pulse of his ass clenching rhythmically around her finger. She loved the amount of pleasure she had just given her man.

I finished stroking my spent cock and went on with my shower. As I shaved, an empty feeling slipped into me, and I had a nagging suspicion that somehow this all had something to do with me, but I couldn't figure out why. With a hollowness growing in my gut, I rinsed my face, slapped on some aftershave, and forced myself to get on with my day.

******

I planned on returning to the "Max and Karen" series on a Thursday night. I told Kate that morning I had a thorny deal to work through with a deadline to meet for tomorrow, so that I'd probably be locking myself up to hammer things out and it might run late into the night.

She looked at me with a half-suspicious sort of sideways glance and mumbled, "Whatever."

She probably assumed I was being thoughtless and uncaring again, and maybe she was right. But we hadn't had sex in months, and I figured that if I wasn't going to find any comfort there, I might as well get back into the story and see what kind of sexy place the trail would lead me.

I just sat there, though, with my fingers poised above the keys, the cursor blinking idly. The past few months, Kate and I had gone through minimal fighting, but without much communication either. We just kept clear of each other and managed our own business as I took careful pains not to set her off. To Kate's credit, she didn't seem to be in attack mode or looking to pick a fight. We actually got along. It just seemed as if she were distancing herself, closing me out to a point where I didn't know what was going on inside her head. Then again, I wasn't exactly keen to find out.

I had been looking forward to returning to the "Max and Karen" series for months. I knew I was using this to vent my frustration and live out the fantasies I kept so closely guarded. But the way I saw it, the choice wasn't mine.

It was tough getting back to the story, though. Between being conscious of Kate's presence in the house and trying to keep this under wraps, the challenge was to find the time to keep it moving. I didn't really craft a story so much as let it pour out of me, and the interrupted short periods of time available to work on the piece made it difficult to tap into it again. I'd have to hide the window when I heard her walking up the stairs and things like that. Fortunately, Kate was still keeping to herself so I was able to produce something so far I was at least partially satisfied with.

When I got to my desk, though, I just couldn't get back into it. After an hour of unsatisfying false starts and staring at the ceiling, I gave up and hacked out a fairly uninspired stroke story just for the sake of having something to show for the time I'd spent, maybe in the hopes of unlocking the door to the next step for "Max and Karen."

I finished off the substitute story (brilliantly titled, "I'm Fucked"), turned off the lights and headed downstairs to bed. I slipped quietly between the sheets, careful not to disturb Kate as I monitored the shallowness of her breathing. Satisfied that I hadn't tripped her alarms, I lay in the darkness and stared up at the shadowed ceiling while my mind settled down.

That night I dreamed of a woman I'd never seen before. I couldn't see her face, but her hair was a thick, rich chestnut, falling to her shoulders. Her outfit, though, was something else—a kind of form-fitting, dark body suit that I somehow knew was neither leather nor latex, but had deep, rubescent luster to it that made it seem thicker than I knew it was.

She stood both away from and above me, and I was lying alone in bed. It wasn't in our bedroom, but someplace else I couldn't see. The walls were dappled with shadows and soft deep colors, and I dreamt of a hint of something in the air, maybe burning paraffin from a candle or the underlying scent of some sort of incense or perfume.

I was curious to know who this woman was and where I was, so I tried to sit up to ask her. My body couldn't. This cipher didn't move at all, just sort of hovered on the periphery of my awareness in the dream, but somehow my mind knew it was her will holding me there. I wasn't frightened so much as intrigued and aroused, curious to know who—or what—this creature was. I tried harder to sit, and suddenly realized I was waking up from this dream with the effort. It became apparent my body was really trying to sit up. I grew frustrated, knowing that by waking up, I was going to lose this woman. But it was too late.

I bolted straight up in bed, or rather—tried to. I felt something cinch on my right wrist and my arm nearly wrenched itself out of the socket as I fell back onto the bed. The room wasn't dark. There was some flicker of light coming from somewhere and I caught a movement to my right again. Suddenly my wrist was pulled hard to the bedpost.

I reacted instinctively, thrashing on the bed in an effort to escape whatever the fuck was going on. It took me a couple of seconds to realize I had been tied to the bed.

My head whipped around to the left to find Kate, but she was gone. Yelling out in a mix of anger and fear, I tried again to sit up, as if some sort of super adrenaline rush would break whatever bindings were holding me down. The ropes, or whatever they were, bit deep into my wrists. I roared against the pain, desperate to escape, to find Kate, to protect us from whatever was happening.

From my right, something came over my head, and suddenly I couldn't see. I thrashed harder, trying to bite the guy who had shrouded me. Whoever he was evaded my teeth and managed to fix the hood in place before climbing onto my chest and forcing me down.

He couldn't have been a very big guy, but I wasn't in much of a position to fight back. Knees on my biceps weighed me down, bone on pressure points forcing me to the mattress. My mind raced—some fucking druggie teenaged kid had picked our house to break into, and now he was going to rape Kate, steal everything of value, and then kill us both so he could post his exploits on YouTube or something.

My body began to weaken, but I was determined not to go down quietly. All my remaining strength was summoned in a last-ditch effort to do something to help us survive. The weight on my chest seemed to get heavier and heavier until I finally had to give it up. There was nothing left to fight with and with a soft groan I collapsed onto the mattress.

Whoever the bastard was who had broken into our house knew what he was doing. I felt my hands drawn tighter to the bedposts, then my ankles, until I knew I couldn't even get the leverage to fight back.

I yelled out hoarsely, "What the fuck do you want? Do you want money? I'll give you whatever I have here. I'll fucking give you my ATM card and my PIN—whatever! What do you fucking WANT!?"

From my left came a whisper.

"Ssshhh."

I instinctively turned my head to the sound, as whatever was covering my head was suddenly pulled off.

And found myself face-to-face with Kate.

"What th—"

"Shush." Kate placed her fingertip on my lips as I struggled to grasp what was happening.

She straightened and walked around to the foot of the bed where I was able to see her clearly in the dim light of a candle she had lit. Kate was wearing a white button-down shirt that seemed crisply ironed, with French cuffs and two small sterling knot-shaped links which caught the honeyed light. I made out the shadow of her bare nipples through the sheer fabric. The collar was closed with a jeweled brooch. The shirt was tailored to follow the curve of her body, with black tights that encased and shaped her long, tapered legs to just above the ankles, where they ended. My eyes followed the line down as she walked, and saw she was wearing a new pair of shoes—high black satin heels, the sheen of the fabric catching the candlelight. Around her ankle was a delicate strap to hold the heel in place, secured by what appeared to be a tiny silver padlock.