Four Shades of Recovery: Boxed Set (26 page)

“Let’s get really connected, baby,” I urge. My suggestion appears to ignite Megan. She then shoves my underwear off enthusiastically with the toes of her feet. I spring free from confinement and show her how much our foreplay meant to me. She looks at my toy with lust. Since she’s still wearing underpants, and I merely rip them off and toss them to the side of our bed. My hardened tool is more than ready for serious action between us.

“Oh, Matt, you feel so incredibly hard,” she huffs with appreciation as she positions me in the right location with her fingers. She’s certainly wet and eager to start our merger. I work myself into her wonderful box gently. Then I look into her eyes. She’s thrilled and excited as I push my toy even further into her folds. I’ve managed to fill her completely and she’s looks totally thrilled.

“Does that feel good, Megan? Do you like to feel all of me inside you?” 

“Oh yes, Matt. You’re perfect, your cock feels incredible just now,” she drools as I steady both of us. Megan then bites the lobe of my ear gently. That’s all I need to start our rock and roll dance. I’m more than happy with the feel of her tight and firm walls around my stick.

We begin our lovemaking gruffly as I pump into her. She’s thrusting up and down beneath me. Megan closes her eyes and opens her mouth as she clenches me tightly within her luscious canal. She lifts her hips to meet each of my lusty thrusts. When she sighs with pleasure, I ratchet up the pace of our connection a bit. She lifts her head off the pillow and throws it back with passion as we bring our connection to the next level. I’ve never been so eager to make my fiancé come before and that’s because we’re in the Room and she’s just been spanked. She’s more responsive to me than ever.

I want her to beg me for more speed. She complies without being asked. “Matt, please go faster and harder,” she urges me. Then, she digs her fingernails into the soft flesh of my back. I love the contact and it spirals me to the next level of intensity. I thrust with renewed energy into her willing body. I love this woman so damn much. Soon Megan’s tensing beneath me and ready to explode. I give her one last taste of my engorged toy as she screams my name in delight.  “Oh, Matt, yes…,” she utters with passion. Finally, an orgasm of major proportions consumes her. Her eyes roll back in her head and she seems nearly transfixed as she unwinds.

I grunt with relief as her release triggers my own phenomenal trip to another level of giddy consciousness. I release my fluid into her wonderful body and collapse with satisfaction onto her chest. I kiss her neck repeatedly while I recover from my performance. Then I roll to her side and pat her ass. I’m absolutely delighted with her reaction to the spanking and our vigorous coupling. Megan turns and looks at me with absolute joy and love on her face. I’m a very fortunate man.

“Amazing job, Matt. We’ll have to try that little touch of kink again and soon,” she pronounces as she strokes my face with satisfaction. “Next time, you can take my clothes off before you swat me!”

“There’s a bit of masochism in you after all, baby,” I murmur with deep appreciation. I kiss her sweet face with untold joy.

“Maybe just a tad. That was the best sex of my life, Matt. I’ve never been so over the moon with our hookup.”

“Our merging reached a whole new level just now. Perhaps we should thank Marissa for that little twist.”

“I  wouldn’t go that far, Matt. Let’s just say I decided to taste some of the forbidden fruit and really liked the flavor. You were a total tiger today. You showed even more stamina than usual baby and I loved every second of it. Wow.”

“I’m beyond thrilled with your response to the spanking Megan. You’re like a tigress today. Can we try it again soon?”

“Absolutely, Matt. I’m in seventh heaven with our newest game. I may be sore for a few days after your latest performance though.”

“At least that sounds like it’ll be a very good soreness.”

“Undoubtedly, Matt. I’ll treasure it.”

MICHAEL’S POV

Marissa’s been restless since we returned from Portland. She’s asking for rough sex and spankings a lot lately and I don’t care for it. Well, maybe just a bit. Tonight she wants me to take her to an old gay bar named The Atlanta Eagle. It’s located in a rough part of the city called Midtown.

She asks me to wear leather pants but I don’t even own a pair. If nothing else, Marissa’s kinky. She’s a lovely looking young woman but I can’t see making her my wife. She’s just not the right fit for my social circle. There’s something a bit off about her behavior these days. It’s almost as if she’s on a mission.

“What’s the attraction to the Eagle?” I ask with a bit of irritation in my voice.

“I hear that they have a great dance floor, yummy jello shots, some funky shopping downstairs and everyone is welcome…gay, straight, black, white, leather….,” she announces but trails off with a half-hearted grin.

“Why don’t we just go to my home, watch an interesting film, drink some wine and get down for the weekend?” I suggest and pinch her cute little ass.

“That’s what forty-year olds do, Michael,” she replies with sass. “I want to see some eye candy.”

“Well, Marissa, I’m 48 years old and you seem to like my eye candy just fine,” I reply with a sexy grin. I happen to know that I’m in great shape for being middle aged. Many women throw themselves at me but Marissa’s been playing hard to get lately. She doesn’t seem impressed with me like she used to be.

“But I’m only 24 years old and I want to dance and have a good time not sit around watching some old rom-com on Netflix,” she complains with a bored look on her face.

And, that’s how we ended up driving my top of the line Mercedes into a dodgy neighborhood in the old fourth ward of Atlanta. It was my first visit to a gay bar and the whole scene. The people seemed quite diverse and friendly. To my delight, drinks were well-priced and the music was provided by DJs playing Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and Britney Spears remixes. The green lights on the dance floor really got me moving. Marissa seemed to enjoy gyrating to Gaga’s “Born this Way,” and Perry’s “Eye of the Tiger”.  I just let myself go with the beat once I had a few jello shots in me. 

I couldn’t help noticing how few women were at the Eagle. What really surprised me were the number of shirtless men and muscular dudes wearing leather who got moving on the dance floor. Before long, Marissa disappeared to search for some hidden rooms that supposedly featured BDSM scenes. I have no interest in such sexual outlets. I retreated to the bar area to rest after our exertions on the floor.

As I recline against the bar, a very masculine looking fellow with a beard, leather vest and muscular physique approaches me with a smile.

“You dance really well,” he comments. “I saw you moving well to “Firework” out there.”

“Thanks! I needed to work some tension off out there. The latest techno beats get me motivated,” I admit.

“Are you here with anyone?” he quizzes me with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, I came with a date but she seems to have wandered off looking for some excitement,” I add with a dismissive scowl. “Apparently I’m too much of a fuddy-duddy for her.”

“She’s a fool, then…By the way, I’m Jim,” he says and shakes my hand firmly. His eyes crinkle with enthusiasm. “Have you been to the Eagle before?”

“Michael,” I add, “and no it’s a first, though I’ve lived near or in Atlanta most of my life.”

“So, you’re just exploring the underbelly of Atlanta this evening?” he queries with real interest.

“I should know everything there is to know about Atlanta,” I boast, “since I’m heavily involved in real estate both here and throughout the country.”

“Really?” he’s asks with fascination. Then the conversation flows. It turns out that Jim is a building contractor in the single family housing sector. We talk about a variety of issues affecting the real estate market in the area.  The drinks flow and the music pulses as time just slips away. What a nice fellow.

Marissa returns eventually and the three of us head to the dance floor for more action. Jim’s a handsome thirty-something rather hairy-looking southerner from New Orleans. Marissa seems to enjoy his energy as well. Toward early morning, I’m feeling the effects of the drinks, dancing and my age. Marissa offers to drive us home and I’m more than happy to give her my keys. I nearly stumble out of the Eagle. I’m grateful that Jim is helping me navigate toward my Mercedes.

When I awaken in my king-sized bed the next morning, I’ve got the hangover from hell. Marissa is draped over my chest and looks as green as I feel. To my surprise, Jim’s fast asleep on the other side of Marissa. What the hell! I slowly rise off the mattress and look around. There’s a cane and a whip near the side of the bed that Jim sleeps on. Marissa and Jim are quite naked and both of them have red lash marks on their backs and legs. Holy hell. What went on here last night?

I make my way to the toilet and vomit up most of last evening’s toxic ingredients. I look over my body but don’t notice any obvious signs of abuse. I remember nothing after I climbed into the car. Apparently, Jim and Marissa had fun with their implements of pleasure while I was passed out. I’m not pleased that Jim spent the night in my bed nor that he and Marissa had some type of kinky encounter. I guess I’ll discover the story when they awaken. In the meantime, I take a quick shower and head to the kitchen for coffee. As it turns out, I’m feeling quite sore and even a bit out of sorts this morning. 

Marissa makes her way to the fridge about an hour later. She’s so hung over that she nearly collides with the stainless steel door of my Subzero. She located the orange juice and pours herself a large glass. Then she stumbles over to the dinette area, where I’m seated and reading the paper on the IPad.

“Do you want to tell me why Jim’s passed out on my bed, upstairs?”

“He drank too much,” she mumbles.

“Well, that’s obvious Marissa. But, did you invite him to spend the night with us?”

“He told me that you invited him to come home with us,” she smirks. “Don’t look at me, Michael. I’m just going along with the program.”

“What program?” I spit out with revulsion. I most certainly did not ask Jim to spend the night, or did I?

“The bi-sexual stuff…you know,” she admits then trails off as she takes a sip of very hot coffee.

“What?” I ask with alarm although I can’t shout as I’d like to do because of my pounding headache.

“Jim’s really skilled with the whip and cane you see,” she states with growing enthusiasm.

“Just explain to me exactly why you’ve got lash marks all over your body this morning,” I demand as I stand to get some toast. My nauseated stomach needs to keep something down or I’ll get weaker than I already feel.

“From what I can recall, all three of us had some hot sex last night,” she explains with a giggle. “Jim played Pappa Bear. Whenever you misbehaved, he smacked me lightly with the whip. It was the most turned on I’ve been in weeks.”

My world tilts on its axis as Marissa describes various scenarios from our evening of decadence. I’m sick with dismay at the story she shares with me in the light of day.

“How did I misbehave?” I growl with growing anxiety.

“Jim ordered you to perform certain acts on his body but you didn’t do them to his satisfaction,” she explains as though speaking to a child.

“What sort of acts were these Marissa?” I’m more than irritated as she reveals the details. Imagine me groveling to that hairy creature in my bed.

“I seem to remember that he wanted you to suck his toy,” she whispers in a conspiratorial tone.

“And I wouldn’t do it?” I ask with growing horror in my tone. The blood in my veins has suddenly turned to ice. I’m tingling with shock and anxiety.

“Well, you tried but didn’t really have the right technique,” she admits in a hoarse voice.

“What the fuck? I was sucking his dick?” I ask with absolute shock. I’ve never had any desire for sex with a man and I’m not the one to be sucking up to another person. They’re typically sucking my dick or kissing my ass.

“I had to do it for you. First, Jim whipped me because of your lack of skill,” she oozes with growing enthusiasm.

“It seems as though you enjoyed being whipped,” I comment with disapproval.

“It was so sexy since he used the lightest touch and the feeling went right to my crotch,” she admits with a strange glow in her eyes.

“So you gave Jim a blow job, while I watched?” I ask as I try to recall the encounter. An image of Marissa and Jim engaged in some sort of sexual act finally comes to mind.

“Well you passed out just after Jim gave you the slam,” she admits with a wry twist to her mouth.

“The slam. What the hell does that mean?” I insist and note that my anus feels sore.

“He gave it to you in the arse, you know,” she chuckles in a naughty way. “He said he’d cane you if you didn’t cooperate. You were very well behaved after that threat.”

“And that’s what the cane was used for last night?” I cringe with embarrassment as I imagine the scene.

“It was so much fun playing with Pappa Bear last night. He made us both kneel down while he poked us with the cane,” she adds with a laugh and covers her nose with her hand.

“Where did he poke us, Marissa?” I quiz her again. I’m sick to my stomach at what I did while I was inebriated.

“On our butts,” she giggles. “I practically came right then and there.”

“Then, this is what gets you turned on Marissa? You like getting whipped, caned and ordered around during sex?”

“Oh, yes, Michael. Can we try it again tonight? Jim said he’d stay over again and train you if you’d like to try some more.”

“I don’t think I have any interest in being whipped, caned or being ordered about by Jim or anyone else for that matter,” I announce with venom. Marissa’s become someone I hardly recognize this morning.

“Are you sure? You certainly didn’t seem that way last night. You were so active and needy.”

“Have you ever done this sort of thing before Marissa?” I ask with a growing realization.

“Of yes, many times. I was very active as a sub, in Portland,” she announces with evident pride.

“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask with a sinking feeling in my gut.

“That I take orders from a Dom. That would be the person who demands certain sexual  acts from me. If I don’t perform them well I get punished,” she mumbles with pleasure as she slurps down more coffee.

“Did you recently meet with your Dom when we visited Portland, Marissa?” I inquire as I put the pieces together.

“Yes, Michael, I met with my Master in Portland,” she smiles with satisfaction at the memory.