I gave Beth plenty of space while she got ready.
Now that things were out in the open—now that I knew she shared my desires, at least some, we were in more dangerous territory than ever. I wanted to tie her to my bed and not let her free until I'd drained myself of the will to fuck her. Which to my knowledge, would never happen.
Soon, I promised myself. Today I had other plans.
I heard her downstairs using the blow dryer she'd conveniently provided, and closed my eyes in anticipation. I crossed my fingers and prayed to God that she'd wear those "sort-of-pigtails" again. Maybe I'd even request them when we got a little further into our relationship.
Or maybe you should just march downstairs right now, and tell her. Command her to wear them. You know she would. But that would make you a creepy old man, and you don't want to risk scaring her off, do you?
I sighed in frustration at that. Yes, I wanted to see her in pigtails. Yes, she most likely would if I commanded her to. But what would she think of me? Would my fucked up kink be the loose thread that compromised our long-term relationship?
And for that matter, I'd yet to even
introduce
Beth to pain. Sadism. It was a part of my sexual identity that I didn't imagine would ever fade. Unfortunately, it was the part I was most afraid to share with her.
If she weren't so fucking sweet, perhaps I wouldn't have reservations. It seemed reprehensible, the things I wanted to do to her. I disgusted myself. But then, what if? What if she
liked
it?
It was not out of the realm of possibility. I'd met plenty of women attuned to my sort of kink. None of whom I'd felt that immediate chemistry with though. And none of whom I'd cared whether it lasted longer than a single night of passion.
Tina and I had gotten to know one another pretty well. She knew what made me tick, especially in bed. But we weren't soul mates. No matter how much sense it made that we should be.
I wanted Bethany. Even if she was new to...well
everything
of a sexual nature, I had to have her. I only hoped I wouldn't frighten her enough to fuck this up.
At least I knew one thing now. She was definitely interested in long term commitment. She had, for the
third time
, begged me to fill her with my cum. And I'd indulged her. Indulged myself. And as I'd studied her face this afternoon, my cock still plugging her delightfully full of my semen, I knew that she wanted it. Truly, to her core, as I did.
She. Fucking. Wanted it.
I'd have been a first class idiot to pass up what she was clearly offering.
The blow dryer silenced, and I quickly finished shaving as I heard Bethany ascend the stairs. I heard her emptying the dryer of her clothes down the hall, and waited for her to enter. When she did, she was fully dressed.
I barely fought off a frown. She must have dressed while in the laundry room. Of course. Why on earth would she dress in front of me? Innocent that she was still, of course she was shy. And in truth, it was a wise decision. I didn't trust myself to see her naked and not do something about it.
Still. She'd hidden herself from me. And that knowledge gnawed at my gut. Eventually I would ensure that she always dressed and undressed in front of me—when I was home at least. It was the control I craved. Knowing that she could deny me nothing.
Deny me nothing.
I drew in a deep breath as I observed her. She'd decided to wear her hair down today. It was lovely, as always. But I longed to see her slender neck, creamy and pure as the rest of her, ready for defilement. And the sick bastard in me wanted those fucking pigtails. Christ, I needed to get
that
out in the open as soon as humanly possible, before I exploded.
Sternly, I pointed to the bench at the foot of the bed.
"Sit, Bethany."
Total obedience. Immediate.
Fuck.
"Stay."
Hell, is this a Daddy Dom fetish, or fucking puppy play?
Whatever it was, it came from the core of me. Raw, natural domination.
And she took to it like a moth to a flame.
Knowing Beth wouldn't budge, I turned and strode with purpose to my closet. The more chaste of the two.
I reached up to the top shelf and pulled down my large suitcase. I hauled it back through the master bath and set it firmly before Bethany as she blinked in surprise.
"Going on a trip?" she laughed nervously.
"You are going to fill this Bethany," I declared gruffly. "When we go to your house, you will pack enough clothes for at least a week, as well as any materials you need for work. Pack everything you need, little girl, and I do mean everything. Am I understood?"
Her glazed expression pleased me greatly.
"Yes Sir," she practically whispered.
I knew that whisper. It was the whisper of arousal.
I nodded, and issued a final command. "Follow."
I knew I was pushing the envelope. But if we were to be together permanently, as I wanted, she needed to know the score. What better way to inform her than to demonstrate and practice?
Of course my Bethany didn't miss a beat. She padded after me, staying close behind as we descended the stairs.
I grabbed my keys and phone from the kitchen island and led her to the garage.
As we passed my fully restored 1969 Cadillac, I smirked at all the possibilities of what I could do to her in that car.
Later.
My smug expression from the sexual imagery in my head was swiftly replaced with concern as we approached the Jag. Sitting just before the front bumper was my trunk.
My eyes flew to her face, and I saw it. Recognition. Fear. And her licking her lips.
Fuck.
I didn't know whether to be worried about her thoughts and recollections, or encouraged by her obvious arousal. I opted for the latter, despite the knot in my stomach.
"See anything interesting Bethany?"
Her eyes flitted up to mine, and she blinked in nervousness.
"What do you mean?" she muttered.
At that, I couldn't help a sinister grin.
"Come now," I crooned, stepping towards her, "Be a good girl, and tell the truth. Do you recognize that trunk Bethany?"
My eyes bored into hers, and I knew she would not lie.
"It's the trunk from your closet," she murmured softly.
"That's right baby. Do you know what's in it?"
She wanted to deny it. I could tell. There was a barely perceptible shake of her head before she swallowed in nervousness.
"No?" I chuckled. "Then perhaps I can refresh your memory. Come," I ordered as I approached the trunk and leant down to release the latch.
Beth stood there, pale but transfixed as she watched me lift the lid.
But her worry quickly morphed into confusion as light penetrated the decades old trunk.
"Where's all the stuff?"
I grinned in triumph. She had outed herself.
"What stuff?" I teased.
She blushed, but persisted. "Your
stuff
Curt. Your...where'd they go?"
"Why are you so interested?"
