Chapter 2

Harvey made a left turn out of the Costco parking lot, turned left again onto US 395, and then took the immediate right-hand ramp onto I-580 towards Reno.

“I took the cuffs off so in the unlikely event of an accident or a police stop you’ll be free to move and pull your dress up,” he said conversationally, and I was immediately impressed. This had nothing to do with D/s or BDSM; it was an example of his integrity, his thoughtfulness, and his caring as Amy had described him to me, and my heart fluttered. Damn, I wish I’d known him before I married Curt, I thought, and before he met the woman who’s now in his life. But I also knew that unless something happened or he told me otherwise my dress was staying bunched around my waist and my breasts would be totally visible to anyone else on the road. I’d always had an exhibitionist streak, but being controlled like this, being told implicitly how I would be, sent a special tingle through my core.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Tell me more about the events you used to do as an escort,” he said next, and I paused. I’d kind of expected this kind of question, but I hadn’t decided what to say and how to say it, and he glanced in my direction. “In detail,” he demanded, and that resolved my dilemma.

“They ranged from mild to wild,” I began. “But I never had a protector, so I always limited the number of men to no more than five for parties unless there was another escort there with me. I allowed no more than three for gang-bangs, and the BDSM scenes were always one-on-one.”

“But you would have taken on more men at those events if there was someone to watch out for your safety, right?”

This was a surprisingly hard question for me to answer, because for some reason I was reluctant to admit my fantasies, and I know I blushed. But I answered honestly, wondering even as I did so why he was asking. Is having a lot of men involved one way he thinks things might be rough for me? I’ve fantasized about pulling a long train, and that thought is both scary and exciting at the same time. “Yes, I would have. Once I got started I just loved the sex, and the endorphins if it was a BDSM scene, and giving head, which is how a lot of the parties started, has turned me on ever since I was a young teenager. I love anal sex and other ass play, I love giving head and the taste of cum, and straight fucking gets me off too, especially if my clit is being worked on.”

“You said you’d do anything for me, but I know you must have some limits. So spell them out; what do you not want to happen?”

This was another hard question. I’d sort of backed myself into a corner with my anything boast, and now I had to ‘fess up to my hard limits. “Don’t kill me. I don’t want to be scarred or otherwise permanently damaged. Knives scare the hell out of me, so I’d really prefer that you not use them even for play, much less cut me with them. I won’t do scat play.”

“I would never damage you, I won’t cut you, and I won’t do scat play either. Anything else?”

“I’ve been choked during sex and it was scary-hot, but I already trust you enough to let you do it.”

“Any age restrictions?”

“No kids pre-puberty.”

“What about incest? Would you play with Johnny?”

“I would if you told me to.”

We’d climbed the hill past the Carson-Tahoe medical campus and were descending into the Washoe Valley. The speed limit went up to 70, and as we entered the long straightaway Harvey put the car on cruise control, moved his seat back as far as it would go, reclined it slightly, and with his hands still on the steering wheel he ordered, “Blow me.”

I started blowing guys in a car when I was a teenager, but I’d never done it while the car was hurtling down a four-lane divided highway. I turned sideways, got up on my knees, and rested my bare breasts on the center console. Then I reached down, with my hair falling around my face, and unzipped his pants. He reached into his pocket and handed me a scrunchie, so I pulled my long blonde hair into a ponytail down my back. God, he’s so prepared for this; I really hope he’s willing to push me.

I slipped my hand into his open fly and gasped his cock; there was no underwear to block my access. He was semi-hard, but already I could tell that he was, as Amy had described, really thick; even half-limp the head of his cock was a fat knob that had my mouth watering. I had told him the truth, giving head always turned me on, and being ordered to do it just added additional spice.

I pulled his cock out and stroked him a few times, and he stiffened quickly. He was, also as Amy had told me, over seven inches long. I bent down and took the circumcised head into my mouth, running my tongue around it and licking the underside of the frenulum, that sensitive ridge of flesh at the bottom of his cock-helmet. He reclined his seat a bit more to give me additional room to maneuver and I started bobbing my head up and down, holding his cock at its base in one hand and taking a little more of him into my mouth on each downward movement.

When the head of his cock reached the top of my throat he put a hand on my back and stroked my skin in little circles, and that told me he was enjoying what I was doing. I relaxed my throat muscles and let him slide into it. I released his cock so more of it could enter my mouth, and I slid my hand back into his pants and cupped his balls.

The car tilted upwards and I knew we’d reached the end of the flat part of the road and were starting to cross the hills that separated the Washoe Valley from the Truckee Meadows plain that Reno was on. He took my ponytail in his hand and tugged on it, pulling my mouth back a bit, and then he pushed on the back of my head and his cock went all the way down my throat until I was kissing his pubic hair. I had no gag reflex and I was totally willing to deep-throat him, but being forced that way was an immense turn-on and I felt my pussy flood again.

“Mmmm, ” I hummed happily, and he pulled my hair so the head came out of my throat and then he pushed me down again. He returned his hand to my back and I bobbed on him enthusiastically, tightening my lips around his thick shaft and swirling my tongue. He let me continue that until we were on the final downslope past the Summit Mall and heading into South Reno, and then he lifted my head off his lap.

“You’re very good at that,” he praised.

I sat up, still kneeling sideways on the passenger seat, and smiled at him. “Thank you, Sir, I’ve had a lot of practice.

“I bet,” he said wryly, “and you’re going to get a lot more.”

That sounds ... intriguing, I thought. Does he mean a lot more practice on him, or is he hinting at something else? “Good,” I responded, “I love doing it.”

“You may sit back down,” he said calmly, and I did, facing forward in my seat with my hands in my lap and my breasts still fully exposed. He brought his seat upright and forward and concentrated on the increased traffic around us until we’d passed through the I-80 mixing bowl and then taken the Panther Valley exit. We wound through the streets until we came to a warehouse-like building on Standard Way and he parked in front of the people-door.

Harvey got out of the car and opened the rear hatch, then came around to my side carrying a big duffel. He opened my door and held out his hand to assist me, and I took it and slid off the seat to stand on the pavement. He pressed the door-locks button on the armrest and closed the car door.

“Take off the dress,” he ordered, and I pushed it down over my hips, stepped out of it, and handed it to him. He took it in his other hand and said, “Now the thong.” I put my fingers into its waistband and pushed it down, then took it off and held it, completely exposed, while he took out his cell phone and made a call. I heard the building’s door lock click and he took my thong; he opened the duffel, put the thong and my dress into it, then took my hand and led me, naked except for my heels, into the building.

The entire interior space was a dungeon. The room wasn’t that large, maybe 30 by 100 feet, and in addition to a small reception podium and the open door to a bathroom it had an assortment of bondage equipment along the walls. There were a variety of BDSM toys on a big pegboard on one wall, but I assumed the duffel he’d brought held some of his own.

He led me to stand next to a St. Andrew’s cross. Then he reached into his duffel and pulled out a pair of suspension cuffs and a pair of plain leather ones that could be locked on. He attached the suspension cuffs to the upper arms of the cross, then bent his right knee and gestured to my left leg. I raised my foot and put the toe of my shoe on his leg, and he fastened one of the leather cuffs around my ankle and locked it in place. Just the feel of the leather against my skin was arousing, and I was eagerly anticipating what he might do. He’d said, and already demonstrated, that he was going to do as much as he could to give me what I wanted, so I was really hoping for an intense scene.

I switched feet and he put the second ankle cuff on me, then he positioned me facing the cross. I didn’t need any direction; I raised my arms and he buckled the suspension cuffs around my wrists. Then he took hold of my right ankle and tugged on it, so I spread my legs and watched as he used a snap bolt to attach the D-rings on the cuffs to the lower arms of the cross. I was now spread-eagled on the cross, and even though he hadn’t actually done anything to my body my mind was already going into subspace and I was really getting turned on; my head was ready for play and my secretions were starting to seep out of my pussy.

He ran his fingertips over my back, just lightly skimming them over my skin and awakening the nerve endings. Then he slid them over my ass cheeks and stroked the backs of my thighs, and I moaned softly at the pleasurable sensations. When he touched my breasts I felt tingles run through my core to my pussy, and when he teased my nipples I shivered in delight. I realized I was even more right than I’d thought; his hands truly were magic.