Author's Note: This is the continuing story of Ethan and Grace. While it is not necessary to read any other story before reading this one, if you would like more background on these characters including how their love affair started, check out the "Amazing Grace" series, or any of the other "Ethan's Grace" stories posted in BDSM and Anal.
On a more personal note, I thoroughly enjoyed writing this scene. I hope you have as much fun reading how Ethan pushes Grace while struggling with his own feelings for her. I hope to write more play scenes with these characters in the future.
Ethan's Grace - The Office Scene
I wasn't looking forward to my regular appointment with my counselor. I didn't want anything to dampen this high I'd been riding since Grace moved in with me.
It'd been a real pain in the ass to make room at my place for all her stuff, and we ended up just renting storage space for most of it, but I'd do it again in a heartbeat just to have her there. Everything sort of changed when the place became ours instead of mine. It brought us closer together.
This was the third time I'd lived with a girl. I moved straight from my mom's house in with a gal going through a divorce.
Renee
. She needed to feel safe, and at nineteen, I needed to get laid. We got along great. It helped that we were into the same drugs at the time. Renee is really the one who got me hooked on BDSM. She wasn't in the lifestyle or anything, but she liked it rough.
I'd never heard of role playing, and I don't think she had either, but that's what we did. We'd get jacked up on coke and grow bored out of our wits in that one bedroom apartment. Renee had this look she would give me to indicate that she wanted to fuck. I watched for that look. Shit, I was nineteen, my dick was perpetually hard.
But when I would try to start something with her, she'd go cold. This hot/cold routine would escalate until my balls couldn't take it anymore and next thing I knew, I'd be holding her face to the carpet and ramming my dick in her cunt. At first I felt real guilty about it afterward. Especially since she'd have carpet burns, scrapes, and cuts on her face, neck, and arms the next day. It looked like I was abusing her. She never minded the marks, but I did. It would've been hard to explain to a judge.
It was how she got off, though. And after awhile, it was the only way I could get off, too. I'd spend hours figuring out how to tie quick knots that would hold so I could tie her down and minimize the cuts and bruises she'd get. When that got old, I started surfing sites for other methods of restraints. That's when I stumbled onto BDSM.
I didn't have the money to buy half the shit I wanted to buy. In truth, my money went mostly to drugs in those days. But it wasn't hard to start making the switch for me. I was getting more from my Dom-space high than I was from the drugs, so spending money on handcuffs rather than white powder was relatively easy to do. And because there was this whole world of terms, rituals, and kinks that I never even knew existed, I could surf sites for hours and never get bored. It kept my obsessive mind busy.
Renee wasn't into it, though. She said it was too fake for her. She had this rape fantasy thing working in her mind and didn't want to have anything to do with negotiating a scene, discussing limits, or using safewords. The more I read online, though, the more I saw myself doing jail time if I kept playing her game. Each session got rougher.
She'd spit in my face and then taunt me to slap her. I'd do it. One time, I'd just gotten a tat outline done and to goad me into getting rough with her, she pinched at the bandage and twisted it until I practically broke her wrist forcing her to the ground. It wasn't just she who was getting cuts and bruises anymore. I was walking around with marks, too.
Only the pain wasn't doing the same thing for me as it did for her. I didn't get off on it. In fact, just the opposite. It got so I avoided triggering any sort of sexual response in her because I was having some trouble getting it up for her sessions.
I tried using humiliating language on her to take the place of the physical force. Calling her a
filthy whore
worked somewhat to satisfy her without having to engage in full out WWE, but it didn't do much for me. My time with Renee was proving to be a self-awareness trip. I'd try something to see how it would work. Some kinks weren't my thing; some were.
When I finally figured out that the reason I didn't like her rough sessions was because she had most of the control over them, a whole world of possibilities opened up for me. But it was a world without Renee.
I lived back at home for awhile, and then on my own until Holly came along. There were women in between that stayed at my place regularly, but none that I would really classify as moving in all the way. They were subs that I'd hooked up with at the dungeon or through mutual acquaintances. Our affiliation was based on our symbiotic D/s needs and nothing more. It was a great way to learn the ropes, but after awhile it just grew stale. I'd find myself scanning the dungeon floor for my next possible play partner while in the middle of a scene on stage.
"Ethan, you can go in now."
The receptionist's voice snapped me back to present day. I attempted a smile at her as I pushed through Dr. Raven's office door.
Olivia Raven was the third doctor I'd seen since I was first labeled as a drug addict by my mother when I was 21 years old. It came out in an argument, and stung hard enough to spin me from using, straight into clinical depression. It was only the second time I'd stopped using since I was seventeen. The first two doctors insisted I go through the twelve step program which didn't work enough to keep me sober. Dr. Raven took a different tack.
Olivia looked up from her desk and tilted her head expectantly toward me.
"Two years, nine months, and six days." I was required to do the math before we could start a session. It was my own affirmation of my drug sobriety. I didn't quit drinking and smoking until a year later, but we didn't track that. Dr. Raven liked to focus on one thing only, and that was my drug habit. Doing this helped me to not dwell on every lousy failed attempt at gaining control over other aspects of my life.
"How do you rate your current confidence?"
"Nine, plus. Doesn't cross my mind."
My mind is too occupied with Grace to think about doing drugs.
Dr. Raven recorded the number I'd just given her and then reviewed her notes for a moment. "Last month you invited Grace to join us. Was there anything from that session that you wanted to address today?"
"I mostly wanted to put her mind at ease. You know, about what I'm about."
"And did the session do that?"
"Yeah, I guess. She sort of made up her mind a couple days before the appointment. I brought her anyway. I wanted you to meet her."
"Why? You don't need my approval, Ethan."
"I know. I don't know at this point if it would matter much if you didn't approve of Grace. But ... I know myself, and what's going on in my mind right now, the constant focus ... it concerns me a little."
"Is it any different than what you did to get into the IT field? You poured over manuals and online tutorials to teach yourself the trade. What about BDSM and your study of control? Or your bullwhip training, for example? Are any of those pursuits different than this one in the way you pour yourself into it with a single-minded focus?"
"No."
"Have you felt your sense of self-control slipping?"
"At times, yeah. I get so obsessed with what Grace is doing when she's not with me that I have to fight this urge to drive to her work and camp out and wait for her."
"Do you actually do it?"
"No."
"What stops you?"
"I imagine her seeing me there and how freaked out she would get. You met her, so you know how jumpy she is."
"I met her, yes. I don't know if I observed the jumpiness you describe."
"It's subtle, but it's there."
"You're allowed to have absurd thoughts. I'd say that you are demonstrating an appropriate and fairly common response for an obsessive person in a committed relationship. As long as you continue to recognize the boundary between fantasy and reality, it'll be okay."
Her fantasy-reality statement reminded me of something. "We're starting to role-play a little. I devised a simple scene last weekend that worked out pretty well. I've been creating all these scenes in my mind now; really pouring some serious brain-effort into it."
