Author's note: Credit goes to the wonderful Scarlett Gunn from Literotica's volunteer editor program for the feedback and assistance in fine tuning this chapter. I have about 100 pages of this written now. So if you enjoy it, stay tuned.
Chapter 1: Escalation
Ella liked the person she was with. Really, she told herself, she did. After all, she had been with Doug for over a year. She had to remind herself of this when she started feeling hollow in a perfectly good relationship. The only problem was that Ella had always had... proclivities. They were important to her, despite the fact that they were more of a poorly defined craving than a definable need. Besides, Doug had seemed interested when she told him about her fantasies, or more accurately, he said he was.
After some tentative searching online, she had dragged Doug with her to a local restaurant to meet with other like-minded people.
At the dinner, Ella had soaked it all in eagerly, snippets at a time, too excited to focus. She had quickly forgotten the names of the people who introduced themselves, but Ella felt a weight shedding off of her just being around other people with a few of the same desires. She was happily oblivious to the amused looks she was receiving from veterans or the appraising looks she received from others. Her bright, nervous chatter made it hard to miss her.
Conversely, Doug had balked upon hearing several of the conversations. He was listening more continuously and caught more of the details than she did. This was more serious than what he had signed up for.
Doug and his discomfort escaped the notice of most people by virtue of him being quiet. Only Michael was watching both of them and the nervous tension growing between them. When Doug's face paled and it finally became obvious that he was going to bolt, Ella's anxious excitement quickly gave way to panic. Under her breath, she had begged Doug to stay.
Seeing her desperation, Michael had smoothly stepped in and deescalated the situation. He extended an offer. If Doug couldn't give her pain, then Michael would. No sex. He wouldn't even undress her and he would send her home satisfied.
And so, an arrangement had been made. One that seemed very foreign to both Doug and Ella, but which Ella had needed, more than she could have ever known.
Late on a Thursday afternoon, there was a loud knock on Michael's door and he opened it to find both of them there. He furrowed his brow at the disturbance. They had no appointment this time. He had seen her only a few days ago. He kept his temper in check though, seeing that Doug's was already unchecked.
"Back so soon?" Michael asked. And then more pointedly, "I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Right now, you can do better with her than I can." Doug walked back towards the elevator, leaving Ella standing in the doorway and stabbing irritably at the down elevator button.
Michael raised his eyebrow at her. "Well," he drawled, "why are you back then?" He stepped back as he asked the question, allowing her in so he could shut the door behind her.
She trembled before him sensing he was different tonight. He was usually playful, but wasn't feeling it after being interrupted without warning. "I guess... maybe because I can't sleep? I've been keeping him up and he can't-- I mean--" Ella's skin grew hot and frustrated, trying to communicate.
"Because?" he snapped. When she said nothing, he leaned over her, looming. "What were you thinking of, when you weren't sleeping? Was it this?" He dragged the sharp edge of his nail down the curve of her exposed throat.
"No," she whispered.
"What then," he asked again.
"I don't know," she lied. He stopped and stared into her eyes, grabbing her chin when she tried to shift away. Under the intensity of his gaze she softened, vulnerable. "I must be broken," she breathed out.
His eyes flashed. "And what has brought you to that conclusion?" There was a forced evenness to his voice.
"He hates this. He just doesn't know what else to do. He..."
"Stop," he ordered and she went silent.
This wasn't the first arrangement of this type he had made. It was easy enough to provide a little pain to help a masochist stay sane in an otherwise loving relationship. This was not acceptable though. An arrangement like this one should be made out of love for a partner and a recognition that, sometimes, loving something isn't enough to make them happy. This was not a place to abandon someone out of frustration.
He tried to hide his anger, but at that moment he couldn't keep it off his face. She felt it radiating off him and not knowing its direction, shrank.
"There is nothing wrong with you," he said, breaking the silence. She stared at him. "Say it," he demanded.
"I-" she fumbled. He had moved closer to her. She could feel his breath and he dug his hand into her sensitive thigh. "Say it," he growled, low and undeniable, disregarding her whimper.
"There is nothing wrong with me," she whispered.
As in most arrangements of this type, he had kept away from advanced play. Some light pain, spanking or maybe a paddle. Enough to keep her sane, but not enough to push her. She always went home at the end of the evening and always left happier than she was before she had come to him.
But that man had broken her spirit, and the arrangement was about to change and escalate to something entirely different.
Michael's voice was decisive yet somehow soothing, "I'll tell you what, sweet one... tonight, we will give you what you actually need."
"What do I need?" she dared to ask.
"I have some ideas," he responded cryptically. "Go ahead and strip for me."
She flushed blushing red from her cheeks down over her breasts. Michael noticed with some amusement. "Is a lack of clothing the thing you think will make you naked?" Now even more embarrassed by her own hesitation, Ella quickly removed her clothing.
"Come here." She went quietly, looking at him with nervous apprehension and then down at her feet. She was afraid of what she would see in his eyes now that she was naked-- disappointment maybe? "Do you remember your safeword?" he asked, tilting her face up to him and forcing eye contact. He had never put her anywhere near needing one, but it was just one of those things you did, so she had one. She nodded at him, her eyes widening some.
He lifted her up to sit on his worktable and then pushed her down roughly to lie against the metal. It was cold and a stark contrast to being over his knee with her face resting against the warm couch cushions. He ran his hands over her, casually acquainting himself with those few areas previously covered by clothing.
Ella found his sudden matter of factness disconcerting. However, Michael was working in his way, watching her subtle reactions, each muscle twitch and embarrassed blush.
When he had made his assessment, he took a tool case out from beneath the bench. It was his favorite diagnostic tool for assessing someone's real pain tolerance. Ella eyed it suspiciously. It looked like the case of a cordless drill. "We'll come to that later. Focus," he ordered.
Michael pinched, and stroked and teased her. But Ella only kind of managed to disengage from that mysterious case. She was beating herself up in the back of her head.
I shouldn't feel turned on by a random tool that looks like it belonged at a hardware store... should I? A normal person would be scared... right?
He grabbed her other thigh, the one neglected earlier and drove his thumb deep into the flesh, high on her leg. She let out a startled half-swallowed sound. "You're not focusing," he observed coldly. "Why" And then, with a dangerous edge to his voice: "Am I boring you?"
"Oh no!" she responded hurriedly.
"Well?" he was holding her so tightly now that it would bruise.
Oh god
, she thought wildly,
his fingerprints will be on me in the morning.
"I'm waiting for an explanation," he finished with a note of irritation.
"This shouldn't make me wet," she responded.
"Why not," he probed. Michael's tone had a forced casualness, but his eyes were sharp.
"Because it's not normal. Pain and fear shouldn't turn me on." She looked ashamed and he could see her drawing tightly into herself again.
"What did we establish earlier," he asked, now almost gentle. She shifted awkwardly under his gaze. "Say it," he demanded firmly.
"There is nothing wrong with me," she whispered again.
"Good... now where were we?" He grabbed her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples hard between his fingers until she moaned. He smiled to himself. He loved masochists. She had clung to the light spanking of previous visits like a drowning woman to a buoy, but back then, the point hadn't been to push her. He had just made his assessment of her and filed it away for a possible later date. That day had come.
He reached down to pinch her clit as hard as he had grabbed her nipples. She cried out and he watched the analytical side of her brain shut off.
Good,
he thought.
He grabbed her hair with one hand, pulling her head back to expose her throat, and grabbed it with his other hand. The pressure increased gradually until it got a little hard for her to breathe. Ella let him, but when he let her go and she gasped for air, some small amount of shock was on her face.
"You can leave," Michael offered her. She shook her head no. "Then trust me," he said, somehow both commanding her and coaxing her.
From a nearby drawer, Michael acquired a ball gag made of rubbery silicone. He was all matter of fact and business-like again. "This is so you don't bite your tongue. Since you won't be able to speak, your hands will be unbound. Just bring either of them to your face if you want to stop... It's not for everyone."
He secured the strap on the gag and slid a pillow under her head. Her instinctive gratitude evaporated as he unpacked the rest of the box. She didn't recognize its contents.
He went through the well-practiced steps of setting up the tens unit. Attaching contacts to her labia and inner thighs, but also to the sensitive skin just below the curve of her ass. He looked down at Ella, in a way that made her squirm. He clucked his tongue. "So eager--even when you don't know what's coming." He made it a statement, not a question and she wanted to die of embarrassment. He saw the shame wash over her face and sighed. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are allowed to enjoy this."
Michael wired the contacts, inserting the other ends into the small box with a satisfying click. Then turned it on.
He previewed how this would work, running a current to the back of her legs. He set it at a 3, just enough to stimulate the muscle and make it twitch, but not enough for any pain. Startled and surprised by the reaction of her body, she bucked her hips off the table. Chuckling, he turned it off and turned on her inner thighs, then a moment later, moved on to her labia.
He had all the control. She was soaking wet.
Checking in like a clinician: "You see how this is going to work?" Ella hesitated, then nodded her head in affirmation. "But it didn't hurt." The statement was rhetorical, but she shook her head in confirmation anyway. "Don't worry," he said, a trace of pleasure in his voice. "It will."
