Chapter 6

“I’ll make you a deal,” I said, gazing down at Mandy’s naked perfection.

She was now lying on her back, with a pillow under her red, stinging ass. Her pubis jutted up in the air like her ass had while I whipped her, though not as high. From the front, the only evidence that I’d punished her were streaks on her cheeks where tear drops hadn’t quite dried, yet.

“You got into trouble because you were unable to control your slutty desires. You still can’t, apparently, since you just had an orgasm while I was punishing you! But I’ll give you one more chance. I’m going to fuck you now, and if you can keep from having an orgasm I’ll pull out, instead of making you have my baby.”

I was still new to this “being a Dom” thing. I wasn’t sure how Doms talked, but I figured they would try to threaten and warn and all that shit. Obviously orgasms were allowed. After all, BDSM is a sexual exercise, right? So I didn’t think forbidding her to have an orgasm (while knowing she would have an orgasm - if I did things right) might appeal to her. It seemed to have worked before, when I told her not to have one and she had one anyway. So my “generous offer” was really a sham, and we both knew it. On the other hand, maybe she could send her mind somewhere else, or think about her ex-husband, or emptying and cleaning the holding tanks for the toilets on airplanes, and that would hold her orgasm at bay. If she really didn’t want my sperm in her at this point in her cycle, then maybe she would avoid having an orgasm.

Yes, I know it’s fucked up to try to kidnap a woman’s uterus, to hold it hostage for some twisted idea of sexual satisfaction. It was fucked up then, and it’s fucked up, now. But it’s a game we both had a secret love/hate relationship with. It was exciting, because it was truly dangerous. When I threatened to beat her, she knew I would not actually hurt her... injure her. But when I threatened to knock her up, it was entirely possible that was going to happen. I had some inkling as to why I wanted to play that game. My own biological clock was ticking and I had never found a woman I was willing to have children with. Mandy achieved that status, even though I didn’t think through what the consequences to either her or my life could be if my biological urge was satisfied.

Actually, that’s not strictly true. What I thought about “Mandy getting pregnant” was, “It will be okay.” I didn’t think any specifics on that concept, just the broad, overall feeling of “It will work out.” My feelings were that, if it happened, it wouldn’t be a disaster. My thoughts were simplistic and, quite frankly, stupid.

On the other hand, I’m sure that from her perspective, the angst, fear, and worry about an unplanned pregnancy was the threat of karma fucking up her life because her life deserved to be fucked up. What complicated that was that when Cynthia’s unplanned pregnancy fucked up her life, it had turned into something she cherished more than anything else in the world. So it was complicated for her.

I know I played the game that night with excitement I should have paid attention to. I should have realized I was kind of getting into this domination thing. It was a little like salt on a steak. The steak would probably be just fine without the salt, but seasoning it made it taste even better.

Basically, when I got between her thighs and entered her pussy as if it were on some sacrificial altar, I knew I was going to cum inside her. I was going to spurt just as deep in her as I could. I assumed she’d have an orgasm, because I assumed I had some kind of special privileges when it came to her womb.

This is a good example of how desire and testosterone can fuck up a man’s thought processes until they are no longer logical in any way. You’ll continue to see that as I describe what happened next.

Whether she was playing the game, too, or actually trying not to have an orgasm, the sounds she made were pitiful as I lunged into her, stopping every once a while to cruelly (in my mind) mash and crush her clit. That had two purposes. In one sense I felt like I was torturing her. She’d never actually, willingly let me impregnate her. I was convinced of that. The other reason was that, when I was deep like that, her hard, little cervical opening scraped across the top of my glans, and felt really good. I’ll be honest. In that particular moment ... I was using her for my own pleasure. Prior to this, I would have described what I was doing as pure perversion. Somehow, I had been seduced into behaving through greed, as opposed to love.

“Please ... stop,” she gasped, at one point. “You’re going to make me cum!”

“Don’t do it, unless you want these soft breasts to start making milk for my baby,” I warned. In this position, with that pillow under her ass, she was arched in such a way that I could actually reach her nipples with my mouth. I still had to pull almost out of her, but I could reach them. I sucked on them to punctuate my threat and she groaned as I lanced back in.

“Bob!” she sobbed. “I can’t help it!”

Her voice sounded agonized, and that’s all I paid attention to. I should have realized that, when she used my name, instead of “Sir”, her mind (and emotions) were on a different plane than mine.

I played that stupid game all the way to the end, when her vagina rippled around me, milking me as she wailed.

“You’re making me do this!” I grunted, as I released a torrent of possibly unwanted sperm into her belly.

And then, as if emptying my balls gave room for common sense to rush in and fill the void, I suddenly realized what I had just done and was ashamed. I stared down at her passion-filled face and her eyes opened, to stare up into mine. I felt like a criminal, who had been caught red-handed.

“Oh, Mandy,” I gasped. “I’m so sorry!”

I jerked my meat out of her, feeling suction that was strong enough that she winced as I roughly evacuated her vaginal canal. I fell to one side and sat, upright. I had no right to lie next to her, or cuddle with her. I had violated her and wrecked the purity of her soul. I swiveled on my ass to put my legs over the edge of the bed. I intended to get up, but I had no idea where I would have gone, or what I would have done.

A grip like steel clamped around my right wrist, the one on the bed nearest her, and I stopped. It was like I had suddenly been handcuffed.

“Don’t go,” she panted.

“What?” I turned my head to stare at her.

“Don’t go,” she said again. “Cuddle with me.”

She rolled until she could tug the pillow out from under her with her free hand, but the one gripping my wrist never relaxed.

“Mandy...” My voice failed me as my thoughts failed me.

“Just lie down beside me,” she said. “Hold me.”

“I feel dirty,” I groaned.

“You’re not dirty,” she said. “I wouldn’t let a dirty man within a mile of me.”

“But I just raped you,” I moaned.

“You didn’t rape me, Bob,” she said. “If you’d have been raping me I would have scratched your eyes out. I would have kneed you so hard you’d end up sterile.”

“It felt like rape,” I grated.

“It felt delicious,” she argued. I must have reacted to that, physically, because her grip tightened. “I shouldn’t have said that. You still don’t understand. It wasn’t rape, Bob. Come here. Please?”

I let her coax me back onto the bed and down beside her. She rolled to rest on her side, with her hand supporting the side of her head, on one elbow.

“You’re a brave man,” she said, softly. “I knew you would be, after I’d worked for you for a few weeks, or at least I hoped you would be.”

“I’m not brave,” I said. I wasn’t a cop or fireman or soldier. My job wasn’t dangerous. I couldn’t remember doing a single brave thing in my life.

“Just be quiet and let me talk,” she said.

Suddenly my little submissive playmate wasn’t so submissive.

“When I got assigned to you all I knew about you were rumors. I had seen you around the office, of course, but you were just a handsome man with power. My own needs had not been met for over a decade. Barry got close a few times, but didn’t even realize it, and then he’d ruin it. I think it was natural for me to fantasize that you could learn how to do what I needed a man to do.

“It got worse as I worked longer for you, because I realized you were a decent man with a superior work ethic. You were the kind of man I dreamed of letting have control over me. In one sense, the fact that you never abused your authority over me, or made a move on me, was both vindication of my assessment of you, and torture because I wanted those things. But I knew you weren’t into that lifestyle, that you wouldn’t understand my needs.

“Then I ruined the project and you offered to beat me. I felt awful for ruining your work. I really did. But the thought that maybe, just maybe, I could turn that into a ... session ... made me almost giddy. I thought that maybe I could teach you how to give me what I needed. I didn’t think about the impact that might have on you. Every man I’ve ever been around who I allowed to get that close to me had either an understanding of how to treat me, or a willingness to punish a woman. I hoped I could teach Barry what I needed, but he had his own agenda, and loving me and my daughter wasn’t a big part of that. So I was terrified, when I came back to your office and told you I was ready for my beating.”

“You didn’t look terrified,” I said.

“I was. I was petrified all the way to your house. But it went away. Do you want to know why it went away?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I knew you wanted sex, and that made me feel good. You were acting all rough, but I knew it was an act, just to get me in bed. You had no idea what was going on, but you went with it. That was brave. And when we got to your house and you spanked me you asked questions. You cared. You tried to understand what was going on, instead of just using me for your own pleasure like I was a whore. You even told me later I wasn’t a whore, and that you’d never treat me like one.”

“You’re not a whore,” I said.

“Barry called me a whore dozens of times,” she said. “Now, hush and let me go on. I can tell you’re unhappy and I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“You don’t want me to be unhappy?” I was incredulous.

“I said hush!” she said. “I know how to spank a man. When I learned how to accept punishment, I learned how to deal it out, too. Don’t make me spank you!”

I felt the urge to laugh, and say something like, “You and what army?” I kept all that inside, but felt a little better.

“It was better than I dreamed it would be,” she went on. “I felt hope for the first time in a long time. And then you said we’d go on this trip and I thought that might give us more time for me to help you understand. I know that’s silly. It takes a person years to fully grasp what’s going on during a session, what it’s for and what it’s not for. I had years to learn that. But what I didn’t learn was what it felt like to be loved on a level above that. I thought what Professor Limpet taught me was the top level of forgiveness and sexual satisfaction. In just a few short days, though, you taught me that there’s something even better. You’ve taught me how to make love, instead of use love.”

“Stop!” I said. “I don’t understand that last part.”

“Professor Limpet used love to get what he wanted and give me what I needed. He knew how to love us, and make us love him, but he used that love for his own ends. What you showed me is a different kind of love, an unselfish love. You showed me that I could have sex with a man where nobody was using love. Instead both of us were creating love and then just wallowing in it. And I got to do that with a man who was generous and ... I don’t know ... maybe noble in a way? You cared about how I felt. I had never been with a man like that, and it was like a whole new world had been opened up for me.”

“I used you,” I argued. “We barely know each other, Mandy!”

“Yes, you used me sometimes, but I’m accustomed to that. I know how to apply that to my own needs. But there were times when you weren’t using me at all. You were just sharing something with me that was beautiful. I felt forgiven in a whole new way. I clung to what I knew and understood, and I’ll probably always go back to that, now and then. What just happened is that kind of thing. I needed it and I loved it. But I know it disturbed you and I want you to understand that the other thing, that other kind of love, is also something I’m going to want again. I’m selfish, Bob, because I know you can give that to me and I’m scared you might be the only man I ever meet who will treat me that way. Don’t pull away because you feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in ten years, maybe even longer.”

She was being very earnest and she was also being vulnerable. She had also communicated that she had very strong feelings for me. Had she been one of the women from my past I would have gotten very careful, been intent on quashing any commitment the woman might have been seeking. I could call her a whore and a slut and drive her away.

I felt a certain amount of dread, right then. It wasn’t the dread of worrying about some desire on her part for commitment. Rather, it was the fact that such commitment no longer scared me. I did barely know this woman and was nowhere even close to understanding her. But the thought of being in some kind of committed relationship with her didn’t frighten me. I didn’t feel like it could end in disaster.

She had used the word “love” several times. She said I had “loved her” at one point. What did that mean? I had never been “in love” before, never felt like there was a woman I couldn’t live without. Wasn’t that what “love” felt like? What did she think “love” meant?

“Fuuuck,” I groaned.

“Talk to me,” she said.

“I thought I was supposed to shut up,” I said.

“You were, and you did. I’m glad I don’t have to spank you. But now I want to know what you’re thinking. I told you what I was thinking. Now it’s your turn.”

“I’m thinking that if anybody is brave around here it’s you,” I said. “You put yourself in a very vulnerable position. You basically let me do anything I wanted to. What if I’d been a beast? What if I’d have been worse than Barry?”

“I knew you wouldn’t be,” she said. “I would never have done what I did if I sensed you’d be cruel.”

“I beat your ass bruised,” I groaned.

“Bruises like that heal,” she said. “Physical abuse – from the right man, in the right way – is something I use for catharsis. Emotional abuse cuts deep and those scars never heal. Emotional abuse makes me feel worthless, instead of setting me free from my personal demons. I know you don’t understand that, but please take my word for it. You have never abused me. To the contrary, you’ve made me feel better about myself than I think I ever have.”

“I have to ask you a question,” I said. “I’m a little terrified of what the answer will be.”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“You used the word ‘love’ a few minutes ago. You said I showed you a different kind of love, that I loved you. So does that mean...” I couldn’t think of a good way to finish the question.

“If you’re asking if I love you, then the answer is yes, but you also have to understand that there are all kinds of love. I’m not expecting or demanding anything from you except what you’ll willingly give me. That’s the new world you opened up for me. I know you don’t love me in the traditional sense. We’re not in love. But we’ve made some love and I feel like it’s okay to keep that love and wrap it around me like a warm blanket on a cold night.”

“I’ve never been in love,” I said. “I don’t know what that word means, at least not for me.”

“Do we have to define it right now?” she asked. “Isn’t it enough that we enjoy each other’s company? I don’t want this to end. I know I have no right to demand that you continue to be with me like this, but I hope I get to do this with you again. I think you want that, too, but I need to try to help you understand it better, so you don’t feel bad for ... things.”

“What amazes me is that you’re making yourself so vulnerable,” I sighed. “Right now we’re talking about things openly. No other woman has made herself that vulnerable. Oh, sure, some of them have said they love me, but that was to get me to bond the way they wanted to bond. I always pushed them away.”

“Do you want to push me away, too?” she asked. “I’ll understand if you do.”

“Would you really?” I asked. It was hard to believe a woman would do that.

“I would understand,” she said. “I don’t want you to back away, but I know my needs are strange and unsettling to you. Most men would call me a pervert, or a slut, or a whore.”

“You’re none of those things,” I said.

“Ergo, that is why I want to be around you,” she said. “You let me be who I am and you kind of like me anyway.”

She had been vulnerable. Could I be?

“I like you a lot,” I said. “Ethically, I like you so much it’s inappropriate for me to keep you as my secretary.”

“Are you firing me?”

“Good grief, no,” I said. “I’d be insane to fire you. You’re one of the best secretaries I’ve ever had. I just have to make sure our relationship doesn’t fuck things up at work.”

“Executive assistant,” she said.

“What?”

“You called me your secretary. I’m your executive assistant.”

“Really? You’re going there? At a time like this?”

“You said you don’t want to fuck things up at work,” she said. “At work all I’ll be is your executive assistant. Outside of work we can be other people, people who are intimate.”

“Can we really do that?” I asked.

“I can ... Sir,” she said. “I think I can help you behave appropriately, too ... Sir.”

“My mind is being blown right now,” I said. “Here I am, lying with a beautiful, naked woman, who happens to be my sec– ... executive assistant, and she sounds like she is giving me false respect.”