Safeword: Davenport (13 page)

Her heart was beating double-time, this wasn't relaxing at all. She hadn't gone to the bathroom since early yesterday morning before she'd driven over. “Now! I need to get rid of it now!"

"Hm. Okay, if you say so. Let's count backwards from ten and I'll take it out."

At eight his hand briefly shifted away, and she was sure he'd made the flow faster. When he reached zero he took the plug out and she moved to step away, but he held her firmly.

"I need to go to the bathroom, Sir."

His voice was gentle as he said, “We're in the bathroom. The drain in the shower's made for this, so solids will wash away the same as they do in a toilet. Let it go, pet."

The water inside her was growing more demanding, the urgency of needing to release rapidly intensifying, but he still held her, gently but firmly, as his hand massaged her back.

"If you've decided it isn't ready to release after all we can put more in. Ten. Nine."

"No, please don't make me do this.
Please
."

He stroked her back, small comforting circles. “Remember your mantra? Say it again, please."

She heard the strain in her voice as she said, “I'm not being punished, I'm being taught to feel comfortable revealing all of myself to you."

"Very good. Eight. Seven."

A cramp hit and her asshole let go of some of the water before she could clamp down again and squeeze it in. He stopped counting a few seconds, but when nothing followed he picked back up.

When he reached zero he quickly stepped to the side and bent her over his arm, using his other hand to swiftly push the plug back in, while she was caught off guard. He stood her back up facing him, holding her, and returned to soothing her with his right hand as his left held the plug in place.

The water began filling her again and she seriously considered safewording. It was almost out of her mouth when she realized he wasn't hurting her, and she remembered how upset he'd been when she prevaricated about needing to pee. A safeword was there as a safety net, and using it now would be an abuse of the power it gave her. It'd be an easy out, and she'd wanted to be challenged. She agreed to submit to him, and he was trying to help her, just as she'd asked him to.

A cramp hit and she gasped as she tried to bend forward to relieve it. His hand disappeared and the pressure inside of her backed off.

"Deep breaths, we'll wait for this cramp to fade and we'll take it out. Say it for me, again."

"I'm not being punished, I'm being taught to feel comfortable revealing all of myself to you."

"Very good. Again."

He talked her through a series of breathing exercises and gently pulled the nozzle out, still cradling her head on his chest, telling her how well she was doing. He moved his feet between hers, spreading them, bending down with her as she got a few inches shorter. He had her say the mantra again, and again. She said it three times before she relaxed and let go.

The water came out in a stronger gush than she'd expected, splashing around them. He readjusted the showerheads so they were drenching the backs of her legs, and she couldn't tell if she was going on herself or not. She was thankful for the blindfold when he pulled a handheld shower unit and sprayed the floor around her feet, encouraging her to say her mantra again at intervals. She thought she was done, but suddenly there was more, and she was helpless to stop it, tears flowing, wetting his chest as she held onto him, her anchor in the storm.

He continued holding and comforting her throughout the entire ordeal, talking in a gentle voice as if this were completely normal. When she felt the plug back at the entrance to her bowels she shook her head, but he kept pushing until it was in, the water filling her once again.

"Just a quick rinse, pet, and we'll put it away. I've some lovely body wash, and I'll clean you from head to toe on the outside once we've done the inside."

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When Dana put the blow dryer away Zach stepped around the corner and ran his fingers through her tresses to assure it was dry, looking approvingly at the empty glass in front of her.

"Good girl. I've had a hard time waiting for what comes next while you dried your hair. Come on; let's get the cuffs back on you."

She'd thought she wouldn't be able to face him, but she felt even closer now than she had before. He'd spent a long time washing her, making her bend over so he could clean
everything
quite thoroughly. When the blindfold had come off, his eyes were kind, not disgusted, and another barrier between them melted away.

She sat on the bed as he put her ankle and wrist cuffs on, sending shivers across her skin as he once again handled her as one would livestock.

"Knees and chest—reach between your thighs and grab your ankles."

She complied, and he connected right wrist to right ankle; left wrist to left ankle—making her ache, igniting a spot deep insider her demanding to be filled.

His hands pushed her knees apart before resting on her lower back, encouraging her to arch, pushing her ass into the air.

His voice wasn't irritated this time, but firm. “When I put you in this position, I expect you to spread your knees and arch your back as far as it'll go, exposing your pussy and ass to me. If you can't do it on your own there are ways I can bind you to enforce it long enough you'll remember next time."

Her libido jumped into full speed at the threat, and she hoped he'd fuck her like this, but instead felt his breath on her pussy, his fingers spreading her open, and then his tongue. Within moments an orgasm threatened to take control, but she didn't know if she was allowed.

"Sir, I'm close. Please let me come.
Please
!"

He replaced his tongue with a finger. “I love how prolific you are. We won't stop here until you've come ten times. No need to ask permission or warn me. I'll even keep count for you. This is your reward for being so brave."

As her third climax rolled through her his tongue moved up, circling her asshole. She'd never had anyone do that before, and if she hadn't been in the middle of an orgasm may have tried to stop him, but he'd just thoroughly cleaned her, so she relaxed and enjoyed it.

He'd skillfully brought her to the apex of her fourth orgasm when his tongue dove into her asshole, driving her ecstasy to new heights at the speed of a runaway train barreling down a mountain.

When her tenth climax finally washed over her, she needed to blow-dry her hair again. He quickly donned a condom before sinking into her pussy, groaning a low base note. He fucked her through two more orgasms and pulled out to line up at her asshole, gently inserting the head before stopping to say, “I need you to take this, pet. It's going to be rough."

He thrust into her all at once and didn't slow down, fucking her like a barbarian, his hands holding her hips in place as he drove into her again and again, with only the natural lube he'd picked up from her pussy. He was coming within a few moments, rutting into her ass like an animal as he growled through his orgasm. Dana barely held on and rode it out, no way she could find release while it was happening, but when she felt him coming it was enough to topple her over into a final crescendo.

He unhooked her wrists from ankles before toppling sideways, gasping for air, and she relished this chance to take care of him. She put a hand on his hip and said, “I'll make this fast, Sir,” before pulling the condom off in one motion, and disposing of it as quickly as she could before returning, cuddling him as he usually held her.

He let her hold and caress him as he recovered, but returned to caretaker mode as his breathing smoothed out. “Thank you, pet. You need to drink some more, and you're probably hungry."

The thought of food made her stomach growl, though it was only 8:30.

He smiled. “That's my cue to feed you. Walk with me to the kitchen and keep me company."

Zach preferred cooking the old-fashioned way, so Dana watched as he heated water with sugar, adding the oatmeal, cinnamon, and vanilla as it came to a boil. He'd situated her on the island, kneeling, with her cuffs connected behind her. He stroked her pussy occasionally, rubbed her legs, tweaked her nipples—almost as an afterthought—the sex toy on the counter, available to fondle at his whim. She took care to keep her back arched and breasts aimed up.

He reprimanded her for swiveling her hips in reaction to his touch, so she endeavored to remain motionless, though her body desperately wanted to move, to find release. Her heart raced every time his hand came near—would it be the frustrating pleasure of a finger tracing her folds before dipping into her, or the pain of her clit being brutally flicked. Would he squeeze and twist a nipple, or gently caress her breast?

Two bowls were set on a tray, but as he'd yet to let her eat on her own, she had a feeling this morning would be no different. The final touches were the silverware and two glasses of milk—one with a lid and straw.

Dana moaned, almost insane with need as he squeezed and twisted her nipples again.

"Such a pretty pet, and so well behaved.” He released her cuffs and helped her down. “Walk in front of me; we're going back to the bedroom."

Her heart swelled with pride at his praise, and she turned to walk, not wanting to mess up now. She thought she'd become accustomed to nudity around him, but felt self-conscious walking up the steps, knowing the view he had from behind.

When they reached his bedroom, he placed the tray on the coffee table and said, “You'll find clips and things in the second drawer down on the right in the bathroom, please secure your hair up and out of the way. If you need to use the restroom while you're in there, you have permission."

Zach was standing by the cage when she stepped back into the bedroom, and her stomach rolled as her heart thudded double-time. Her eyes met his as he smiled cheerfully. “In you go."

The cage had played a starring role in so many of her fantasies, and her knees grew weak as she walked to him, remembering all the times she'd masturbated at night, thinking of nothing but being imprisoned as he worked nearby.

She stepped towards the door, started to bend down, but he tilted her head up by the chin with a single finger. “I've had you up on a pedestal; I think it's time to pull you off, and remind us both of our positions. I'm pleased with your behavior—this isn't about showing displeasure. If you feel we need to talk I want to hear about fancy footstools, okay?"

What was he talking about? She was turned on by the cage. Looking at him quizzically she said, “Okay. Sir."

He nodded, his voice stern. “You're under speech restriction—no speaking unless asked a direct question, or you need to safeword. Remember what I said about providing important information?"

"I do, Sir."

"Okay then, into the cage."

Dropping to her knees as gracefully as possible, she crawled in and finally noticed he'd put the oatmeal and cup of milk on the floor. The cage wasn't tall enough for an adult to sit comfortably, and she moved to lie down, but he stopped her. “No, hands and knees. Move closer to the bowl."

He clipped her wrist cuffs to the bars, and the added thrill of bondage inside the cage made her tremble with need, her hips reflexively wanting to hump the air, but she managed to keep still.

"I expect you to clean your bowl. The oatmeal should be cool, but be careful until you're certain. Drink all of your milk, too."

Dana was so horny she wasn't sure she was hungry anymore, but she leaned down to take a tentative bite, testing the temperature. A voice in her head insisted she should hate this and ought to feel humiliated, but she relished the activity. His pet, caged and fed.

The oatmeal was thick enough she could grab it into her mouth with her teeth, and drinking from the straw was easy. She fell into a rhythm of eating, her arousal levels rising as her blood boiled.

She ran into problems as she reached the bottom half, and found it impossible to eat without getting the sticky mixture on her face. With her speech restrictions she couldn't ask permission to leave the rest, so she dipped her head in the bowl, like a good pet. Before long, she had so much food on her face that more wouldn't make a difference, so she stopped trying to avoid it and just ate.

His shadow fell over her as she worked on the last of the oatmeal, using her tongue to get the few remaining bites. She could see his bare feet poking out from his pajamas, but didn't stop eating to turn her head until he squatted down, ass on his heels.

Their eyes met and he smiled, but—self-conscious about her dirty face—she couldn't bear his gaze.

"Done?"

"It's not clean, Sir,” she said, looking at what remained, “but I've eaten all I want. I just have a little more milk."

He peered into the bowl as he detached a cuff. “You've had enough, finish your milk while I release your wrists, and I'll clean you up. Speech restrictions are lifted, can you tell me how you're feeling now, pet?"

"I didn't mind eating in here; I liked it. I'm your pet, and it's only fitting I eat like one, but when it started sticking...” she hesitated, finally raising her eyes to his, and saw loving concern. She took a breath and finished. “I didn't like getting it on my face. I'm sorry, Sir."

He disconnected her other cuff and opened the cage door. “No need to apologize. Come with me to the bathroom so I can wash you. We'll work on finding a different bowl, a way for you to eat without wearing it. Thanks for being honest with me, pet."

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Dana was stretched out on a massage table, receiving one of the best massages of her life when the clock chimed twelve o'clock. He'd been working on her for hours, saying he wanted to learn her body, talking to her about each body part in detail as his fingers probed the muscles and nerves.

He'd heard the story of how she broke her pinkie in kindergarten, her arm at eight, the stitches in the bottom of her foot at eleven. They'd discussed every faded scar, every sore muscle; it was amazing how much of her life was recorded in her body if someone took the time to investigate.