Safeword: Matte - In Training (16 page)

“What if I have to use the restroom?”

He seemed to be deciding between
possibilities, but finally said, “I’ll put a hand towel on the edge
of the tub. You can straddle it and dry yourself.” He grinned as he
added, “If I catch you humping the tub though, you’ll be in
trouble.”

Ethan took her from behind while they lay
side by side the next morning, holding her leg in the air with his
arm under her knee, and reminding her she couldn’t come as he
pounded her from behind with the ring stretching her ass.

He made her stand on her kitchen island with
her legs spread wide and the heavy anal beads in her ass while he
made breakfast. She tried to argue it wasn’t sanitary, but knew it
was a weak argument, as he’d worn gloves to insert them, and then
promptly disposed of the gloves and washed his hands. He had a
metal tray under her to catch the beads when they fell, so she
couldn’t even say she’d infect the countertop when they
dropped.

He tucked a vibrating bullet into her pussy
as she held the anal beads, and she could swear the beads in her
ass were vibrating, too. He finished the omelets, situated them
beside the crepes, and glanced up to say, “Go on into the bathroom
and take them out. Wash your hands before you come back. I think
it’s time to add more weight, so you don’t have to hold them so
long.”

When breakfast was over he worked the next
size plug into her, and strapped her into the harness to be sure it
stayed put. She thought she could handle it okay when she was on
hands and knees, but when she twisted around to stand up, she
gasped at the stretch.

“Sir, it’s more than I thought. I’m not sure
I can handle it.”

“Okay, I’ll help.” His voice was kind,
soothing. “Find a comfortable position, either on your back or your
side. We’ll give you more time to get used to it before you try to
move around too much.”

Unfortunately, his idea of taking her mind
off the pain in her ass was another couple of hours of teasing and
denial. At around eleven o’clock he said, “I planned to wait until
noon to take you again, so we could come together, but I’m hard as
a rock and there’s no reason I should be denied just because you
landed yourself in hot water.”

He situated her with her head over the edge
of the bed and fucked her mouth while he played with her clit and
slowly fucked her with a narrow vibrator.

Just before he came he barked, “Don’t
swallow.”

She held it in her mouth as he came, and for
the several minutes he stayed in her mouth to catch his breath
before slowly pulling out.

She sat up as soon as he moved to the side,
still holding it in her mouth, and he caressed her cheek with the
back of his hand. He kissed her on the nose and moved his hand to
her throat with no more pressure than a feather.

“Let me see.” She opened her mouth and he
nodded in approval before saying, “Swallow.”

The muscles of her neck pushed against his
hand as she swallowed him down. Her gaze locked with his, and the
intimacy of the moment left her breathless.

He ran a finger down her chest, between her
breasts, to her stomach, and wrapped his hand around her hip bone
to pull her into him. His other arm settled on her upper back, and
her ear was against his chest when he rumbled, “I love you,
Samantha.”

“I love you too, Sir.”

They lay comfortably in bed together, but
Sam watched the clock, and when it finally hit noon she said, “It’s
noon. Can I have an orgasm? Please Sir?”

He chuckled and said, “Roll onto your back
and we’ll see what we can do.”

Her eyes grew large when he settled between
her legs and she realized he intended to use his mouth on her. “You
were very good, and held off orgasms a few times when you wouldn’t
have been able to only a few weeks ago. Consider this your reward.
Come as often as you want, no permission needed.”

Sam lost track of her orgasms, but when he
finally stopped she fell asleep, and didn’t awaken for hours.

Chapter Nine

Ethan held off on giving her the next test
until Sunday evening, and she was only an eighth of an inch short.
She took her one stroke of the stainless cane, and knew she’d be
okay by Tuesday. Whether she’d make Friday’s goal or not, she
wasn’t so sure, but felt she had a shot.

She didn’t take any shortcuts during the
week, and even woke up fifteen minutes early a few mornings to be
sure she’d have time to work the anal ring in without rushing.

Ethan spent the night Wednesday night, and
Sam once again found herself unusually aroused by the enema, though
she wasn’t ready to talk to Ethan about it yet. It wasn’t one of
his kinks, merely a necessary task to prepare her for depth
training. She’d never been turned on by enemas before, and wasn’t
sure about her feelings around them now, but the mere idea of Ethan
having so much control over her sent her into overdrive, and the
injection of the warm water just sent her higher.

Later, as he was buckling the long dildo
into her, Ethan made a point of telling her he was pleased with
this aspect of her progress, and thought her revised schedule was
going to work out okay.

* * * *

Friday morning Sam arrived at the social
worker’s office early so she could be in the observation room
before Mr. Masterson arrived, in the hopes of avoiding a
confrontation. She was surprised to see Mr. Masterson’s attorney
already seated and looking over something on his tablet.

They greeted each other cordially before
turning their attention to their electronic gadgets. Sam checked
her email until the children were brought into the room, and then
made notes as the social worker spoke with the kids and initiated a
game obviously designed to facilitate conversation about pets. The
daughter said she didn’t want any more animals, as they all died,
and when the social worker asked a few questions designed to
casually find out how they’d died, the children expertly changed
the conversation to avoid answering. For an eight and eleven year
old, the kids seemed surprisingly mature.

The daughter ran to her dad and hugged him
when he entered the room, and the son walked to him and accepted a
hug. The dad asked about school and seemed to be aware of friend’s
names, various projects that’d been due, and issues the son was
having with algebra. Everything seemed to be going fine until the
dad began asking subtle questions designed to give clues about
where they might be living. He asked if they had to wake up earlier
in order to make it to school on time, and whether they had their
own room. Later he questioned them about how their mom cooked their
meals, and whether they’d gone to the same grocery store, or a
different one.

Sam finally turned to the other attorney and
said, “If I feel the family needs to move to stay safe, I’ll
request the court have your client reimburse for moving
expenses.”

“He doesn’t seem to be a threat to the
children, there’s no reason to keep their whereabouts hidden. I’m
surprised you’re going this route, to be honest. You’re usually the
sensible one.”

A dozen arguments came to the tip of her
tongue, but she knew they’d both seen the same documents, and she’d
only be wasting her breath.

Sam saw a few possible signs of the children
being careful around their father, but realized it could just be
their surroundings, and not an actual fear. However, their time was
nearly up when the daughter made mention of her brother trying out
for the school play, and how cool it would be if they could both be
on stage at the same time.

Mr. Masterson’s face grew red and he slapped
his son across the face as he roared, “I’ll not have a faggot son
parading around on stage embarrassing me!”

The social worker sprang into action, and
must have pushed a button before she placed her body in front of
the boy. As Sam opened the door to the hallway a big beefy man
flung the door to the other room open and stepped in, so Sam
returned to the observation room and called 911 as she watched Mr.
Masterson back off and chill out at the sign of Mr. Muscles.

The social worker exited the room with the
children, and took them into the room on the other side of Sam’s
observation room. They could now see Mr. Masterson through one
window, and the children through the other.

Sam requested an officer come make a police
report. She expected the other attorney to argue the point when she
hung up with the 911 operator, but he was engrossed in the
conversation between Mr. Masterson and Mr. Muscles. It seemed Mr.
Muscles had his own psych degree, and he was busy asking questions
about the source of Mr. Masterson’s anger. Sam could see where the
conversation was headed, and kept one eye aimed towards the two men
while listening in on the conversation between the social worker
and the children. The son was trying to take responsibility, saying
it was his fault for asking their mom to let him do something he
knew their dad wouldn’t approve of. The daughter felt she was at
fault, but she didn’t know why her brother hadn’t tried out before,
and had no idea her father would be angry. Neither blamed their
father, and Sam knew the course of action she’d take in court.

Mr. Masterson seemed intent on making it
easy for her however, as she saw movement and turned in time to see
him take a swing at the larger man, only to have his hand caught
and his arm twisted painfully as he was pushed to his knees. Mr.
Muscles reached for his phone, and Sam didn’t bother telling him
she’d already called 911. After all, having two people call for two
separate incidents involving the same man was bound to bring the
police faster, before a third incident could develop.

She looked at the attorney sitting beside
her and said, “Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything, and Sam
stood to go speak with her client, sequestered in another room down
the hall.

* * * *

Sam met some colleagues for lunch and
returned to her office to type up some notes and prepare a
restraining order request, to be sure Mr. Masterson couldn’t
legally go near his children or soon-to-be ex-wife. The officer
assured her he’d turn the report in by two, so she’d have enough
time to send someone to pick it up, and use it as a supporting
document to file before the courthouse closed. It was a little
after three, and her runner should pick it up any minute now, and
he’d scan it in and email it to her. As soon as she added the
report number to her documents, they’d be ready to go, and the
judge’s secretary was aware she’d be coming by to request a
temporary restraining order until the judge could see everyone in
court next week.

She was typing her notes when her door flew
open and Mr. Masterson stepped in.

He spoke low, snarling his words. “You
little bitch! It’s your fault I won’t be able to see my kids
anymore! You know where they are, and you’re going to tell me.”

Sam stood beside her chair, but didn’t
circle around her desk. “After I watched you slap your son this
morning, why on earth would you think I’d tell you where he’s
living?”

She knew she was supposed to try to defuse
the situation, but she really wanted a chance to punch this asshole
in the face and follow it up with a kick to the nuts just before
she sank her fist into his gut. And possibly land a final punch to
his jaw, for good measure.

“Your office is practically empty.” He was
clearly trying to scare her as he added, “It seems everyone’s gone
home for the day. The cute little receptionist is out front, but
she has no idea I’m here, and I didn’t see anyone else as I was
looking for an office with your name on the door.”

It was true the office was mostly deserted
this late on Friday, but there were enough people around to rescue
her if she needed. However, she didn’t break it to him she could
scream and draw attention to the men he didn’t see behind closed
doors. It was fine with her if he thought he had her alone.

She used a high pitch mouse voice to say,
“Oh, I’m so scared, little bitty me in a room all by myself with
the big man who slaps children.”

She took a step back, as if afraid, and he
stalked around the desk. “Tell me where they are you little cunt,
or I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

The walls had extra
insulation to keep people from overhearing privileged
conversations, but his voice was growing
louder and someone was bound to hear him soon.

She was debating whether to be responsible
and call for reinforcements, or continue to egg him on so she’d
have a chance to punch him, when he roared, “You’ll tell me where
they are or I’ll hurt you in ways you can’t imagine, you fucking
cunt in a suit.”

Her door flew open and one of the other
attorneys said, “Hey, what’s going on in here?”

Without taking her eyes from her would-be
attacker, she answered, “Mr. Masterson here thought he could
threaten me into telling him where his wife is living, so he can go
beat on her some more.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think I’ll see if Jackson’s
close.”

Another attorney stuck her head around the
corner. “No need. I’ve already made the call.” She looked at Mr.
Masterson and said, “I don’t know who your attorney is, but I doubt
you’re paying him enough to put up with this kind of bullshit.”

They managed to keep Mr. Masterson ranting
at them until Jackson, their local friendly police officer,
arrived. Sam had half hoped the idiot would act up in front of
Jackson, but he settled down, appeared rational, and denied
threatening Sam. While they were giving their statements Sam’s
phone beeped to let her know the police report she’d been waiting
for had arrived, and she printed it and handed it to Jackson.