Jessie

November

October ended, and November was completely different. The warm weather that had persisted blew away in a blast of cold air that quickly stripped the remainder of the leaves from the trees. Blue skies faded to everpresent gray, and though the meteorologists were constantly predicting snow, Milwaukee received constant rain.

Every day, sitting in traffic to go to class or the hospital, rivulets water ran down the Monte Carlo's windows, a dreary, drab, reflection of the gray I felt in my soul.

No movement.

No conclusion.

No finality.

The handful of days since the attack felt like weeks. Months.

I read to Gary every night. He'd been slowly reading through A Tale Of Two Cities at the time of the...explosion...and I finished reading it to him. With no idea what to read next, I read it out loud again.

The doctors told me he could hear me, but I didn't know enough about comas to know if they were telling the truth or comforting me.

Class dragged on. Homework dragged on. My time in the hospital dragged on.

Sitting in an understuffed hospital chair reading to the love of my life dragged on.

I dissolved the band. I'd barely found the time while going to school, and between school and the hospital, I simply didn't have the time to even talk to anyone in the group but McKenna. The motivation was lost too, dressing up, getting all worked up and energetic, singing songs full of life and sexuality... And not burning off that adrenaline and emotional high with the love of my life immediately after - what was the point?

Coming home and going to bed alone dragged on.

Listening to Jane laugh and squeal and improve her vocabulary was a bright spot in an existence that felt like empty pages and gray.

Until The Call came.

It came while I was in class, and I dug my phone out of my backpack with an embarrassed "Sorry" and muted the ringer. A glance at the screen showed me a number I recognized, and I excused myself, stepped out into an offwhite hallway. "Jessie Rigg."

Time stopped.

I barely heard the nurse's voice over the ringing that started in my ears, and I staggered. The crash of my back against an offwhite locker was barely audible.

I sank down to sit on the floor, legs inadequate at holding up me and the weight that had just been placed on my soul through the phone, and I could feel myself hyperventilating, tears coming hot to my cheeks.

This was what I'd been afraid of.

I ended the call and sat there. Continuing school didn't seem like it had much point. Living didn't seem like it had much point.

The neutral-colored hallways stretched out on either side of me forever and I was alone in the world.

Going to be alone in the world.

I grabbed my backpack out of the classroom and walked out into a gray, rainy day.

###

I stood in the hospital room, looking down at Gary, while the doctor explained that he was going to die.

He was still big, intimidatingly big, but a few weeks on his back was robbing him of muscle mass. I remembered all the times I'd run my hands over his arms, the thick slabs of his pecs. He'd never tried to look like a bodybuilder. He built but didn't cut, muscle covered with a healthy amount of fat.

Now he was wasting away.

"Do you have any questions for me?" The doctor's words brought me back to the room, and I shook my head mutely. "I or one of the nurses can help you if you need anything."

And then I was alone in the room.

I sat down heavily in the chair by the bed, and my hand fell instinctively on the copy of Dickens. Gary wouldn't read in bed next to me ever again, annoy me by not turning out his bedside light. He wouldn't read at night in the big leather chair while I sat on the floor and did homework. He wouldn't lean forward to play with my hair or rub my shoulders, aching from leaning over books and papers and tablets.

I had three years with him, and now an infection was going to cut the rest of his life - our life together - short. The new meds were fighting the infection back down, but the longer he was on the ventilator, the longer he was not breathing on his own... The end was inevitable. It was just a question of when, now. Not how or why.

I was hyperventilating again.

I needed pain. I needed to sink into the detached state where hurt flowed like a river and all I could do was surrender and drown in it. I needed to give myself up, to not-be me for a time, to recenter and find the strength I needed to continue.

The problem was, Gary was the only one who could give me the pain I needed.

McKenna sure wouldn't. If I wanted to get eaten out or have a toy worked into my ass, I could call her, but neither she nor I had any interest in me submitting to her for the pain that I needed.

I NEEDED it.

I could imagine the sting, the hurt of a lash or paddle or hand, and I ached for it. The thought of bending over Gary's lap, or Gary cuffing my hands above my head so he could whip me... It was like I was hungry. Like a junkie deprived of their fix. The only thing I wanted more was Gary back, and so my torment built upon itself.

I leaned over. "Please fight, Gary. Please come back to me. I...I can't do this without you. I didn't get much time with you, and I don't want to keep going if you're not here. I NEED you. Sienna needs you. Jane needs you. This fucking world needs one fucking spot of goodness in it, and you can't take that away... Please, daddy, you have to wake up, you have to come back..."

I held his hand - still big, once strong - and sobbed until I couldn't anymore. Until I was drained. Until, intellectually, I could understand that this was an instinctive process my body was going through, and I didn't need to do it anymore. Until I was just too tired to continue.

###

I knocked on the door of Sienna's third-floor apartment that night, feeling embarrassed. I shouldn't, but I did.

She answered after a few moments, dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama pants. "Hey, Jessie. What's up?"

I tried to find some spark of energy, joy, something other than monotone death in her voice, but I couldn't. Even her hair and face looked depressed, like she stopped putting any effort into her appearance at all.

And she had. She hadn't left the house in two months, fear of Morgan keeping her behind the shutters and heavy brick and impenetrable doors.

"How you doing?" I asked, making small talk.

"Same old, same old. I imagine you found dinner?"

"Yeah, thanks, it was good."

We stood there in silence, looking at the floor, trying to look at each other without committing to it. It struck me, almost goofily, that we were two subs who'd lost their master. Who'd loved him and had him ripped away. She'd lost him a second time. How do two people like that...manage...When the most meaningful connective tissue between them is destroyed?

"I need your help," I said finally.

"With what?"

I motioned her into the hall, where we stood at the landing.

"What's up?"

"I need...I...I need you to hurt me." It hurt, and not in a good way, to say, to even look at her.

"What?"

"You know, for me, it's...pain helps me think. Helps me...not think. It's not just sex thing. Not always."

"Jess, no. I'm not spanking you or shit like that. That's not something that turns me on, it's not even something I know how to do."

I chuckled. "Actually, I was hoping you'd whip me. Hurts more."

"Seriously."

"Yeah, I mean, it's not as...sexual...as spanking. I'm not asking you to have sex, it's more... Like brushing my hair, honestly." I held up my hands defensively. "One hundred percent serious. You don't need to get naked or anything. Please. I need this."

Sienna looked undecided for a long while as she chewed it over and I tried to look pitiful. "Sure. Fuck it. Why not."

She checked in on the sleeping Jane, and then followed me down to the second floor. It still hurt to walk into this room. I didn't know how she felt, but for me, it hurt, and not in a good way. "Didn't want to do this in the playroom."

"I get it. So, how? What do you want me to do?"

I retrieved my black leather cuffs from the dresser, efficiently buckled them around my wrists without thinking of who should be doing this instead. Off the bedroom, I pointed at the heavy bag stand in the corner of the weight room. "I stand there with my hands on the hook, and you... You whip me." I pointed to the flogger set out on Gary's old weight bench, a flurry of leather straps on the end of a clear glass handle that functioned VERY well as a dildo.

"You really want this?" Sienna asked, incredulous.

"Yeah." I pulled my t-shirt over my head, reached back and undid the hooks in the stupid little bra I was wearing. More necessary now than in the summer, it didn't support shit, it just kept my nipples from poking out everywhere in the cold. I snaphooked a ring to one of the cuffs, contorted my wrist, connected it to the other cuff.

I felt very exposed and very stupid, walking over and hooking my cuffs over the punching bag stand. The motion stretched and exposed me, and I stared at the wall with heat creeping across my face and acid roiling in my stomach.

This was embarrassing.

It shouldn't be, but it was.

The leather slapped softly against my back, falling as soon as it hit skin. Fuck, this had been a mistake. "Harder," I told Sienna.

"Ok."

It felt like she increased her power by maybe two percent on the next swing.

"Harder. Whip me as hard as you can. Please. You can't hurt - DAMAGE - me."

The leather tails impacted my back with maybe twenty percent more strength. Gary would have me howling by now... If I didn't have a ball gag between my teeth.

"Fucking harder, See. I need this. PLEASE!"

The next strike actually stung. It wasn't painful like I need painful, but it was getting there. I hissed at the impact. "Yes. Just like that. Keep going, but harder."

She flogged my back from right to left, and maybe every three strikes actually caused pain. This was a waste of time.

I reached up and removed the ring between my cuffs from the weight bag hook, bent my wrist, and unclipped the snaphooks.

"That's it?" Sienna asked. She looked incredulously at me, let the brown leather traces of the flogger hang on the floor instead of draping them over her shoulder like Gary used to.

"Not even close."

There was a digital clock on a shelf nearby, and I flipped open my Skean Dhu as I walked over to it. I yanked the plug from the wall, sawed the serrated blade through the wire at the back of the clock. I folded the knife back up, folded the cord in half, handed the cut and plug ends to Sienna. "Try this. And swing harder."

I turned back to the punch bag fixture, made a decision, and pushed my pants and underwear down, pulling my shoes off as I hopped around to undress. I rehooked my cuffs together, stretched to hook them over the equipment. "Please hurt me," I silently begged the blonde girl.

The first lash of the cord burned across my back and I gasped at how wonderful the pain felt. Like a burger on a sunny day after hours in the car, like a kiss after time apart. Like the numbing warmth of a drug spreading through the veins after the anxious wait to shoot up.

"More. Just like that. Thank you." I hung my head, let my eyes fall to half-closed, and waited. "Don't stop until I tell you to. No matter what. No matter how you think you're hurting me, just don't stop, please."

The harsh sting made me shift and dance and flinch and I could feel the heat spread across my skin as Sienna targeted high, low, middle. She was clearly inexperienced, and I cried out as the tip of the cord wrapped around my side, stinging my stomach, my breast, my thigh. That was good. Pain was good. I accepted it, relaxed to it...submitted to it. I needed pain. It felt clean and pure, cold water after a run, washing away my doubt and fear, giving me something else to concentrate on besides the mental anguish I felt. I let my head hang limp and just breathed, soaked in the lines of fire as Sienna stroked them across my body.

This was what I needed.

###

I knelt on the bed, back arched, elbows and knees widespread on the sheets, staring at the headboard. We'd had a wonderful date, going to local Florida restaurants and bars, and now the night was going to end just the way we'd both been anticipating.

With me getting fucked.

My body buzzed from Gary's fingers and tongue, and I was looking forward to this next part so, so much. The firm, blunt crown of his cock pressed to my slack, lube-slicked asshole, and no matter how much attention he paid to it beforehand, no matter how much lube was on him and me, no matter how slow he pushed, it still stung.

Deliciously, stung.

My voice came out in a whimper, and it embarrassed me how pitiful and weak I sounded, almost as embarrassed as I felt to be allowing this man to do...this...to me. That embarrassment, that pain turned me on, and I could feel my entire body tense, relax, clench around him as he slid and stretched his way in. "Daddy..."

His bulk was above me, pressed to me, and one hand grazed my aching nipple as he kissed my hair. "What, babygirl?"

"It... It hurts."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"Please, no, please..."

I could feel him moving against me, within me, slowly, steadily, filling that emptiness and then pulling away. The discomfort was still there, but pleasure was overwhelming it, mostly the feeling of being possessed, used, doing something wrong and taboo to fill that dirty, groveling need deep in my soul.

"You like that it hurts, don't you?"

Fuck YES. I came and it took my entire body, a wet clench in my abdomen that spreads warm tingles and muscle tremors through the rest of my body and I had to scream, loud and raw.

Gary pushed me down and I felt his weight on me now as he thrust against my asscheeks, every movement against me grinding my raw, excited cunt against the bed. Fuck this was amazing. I couldn't catch my breath and I screamed myself hoarse again, clawing at the sheets, reaching back to claw against Gary as the energy, the need built and crested again and again.

The motorcycle hummed beneath me, cold air streaming past my face as I rode. The highway was mostly deserted, empty because WYOMING, empty because of folks saving gas. I'd joked at the hospital that it wouldn't be too long and we'd be seeing horses on the roads again.

I was lucky, I'd looked ahead and bought a hybrid electric ethanol bike. Still had two trucks for transport, but between the sun and some yeast, I could make my own fuel.

Dusk would be approaching soon and I pushed the bike faster. The brown, bare trees whipped past in a blur, and at the faster speed, I felt every little bump in the road magnified.

I didn't mind being out in the dark, but I'd rather be at home.

I smiled at the thought.

###

The pain had stopped. Rather, the pain was still there, but the impact had stopped. My back burned and I flinched when Sienna put her hand on my hip.

"I'm not doing this anymore. I'm gonna hurt you if I keep going."

"Ok." I licked dry lips. "Thank you."

That hand stayed on my hip, and Sienna's mouth brushed my shoulder, stayed there in a tender kiss. "Can you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Sex. I want...I need to prove...I need to do it again. Please."

I reached up and unhooked my cuffs, unclipped them, turned. She was so close, I could feel her warmth. Her whole body was heaving like she'd been running, or was terrified, or was incredibly turned on. "Yeah, what do you want?"

"To cum. To feel that again. To know I can feel that again, after..."

"Sure. Go lay down on the bed. I just need some water first."

I drank from the faucet, looked over my back in the mirror. Red, with thickly bruised raised welts streaking my skin. That'd burn for days. Last for weeks.

Any time I needed pain, I'd just rub my back on a doorframe.

I stretched, and my body was stiff. It hurt just to move, a glow of agony giving space to different hurt with every movement.

Good.

Sienna lay on her back on the bed. She'd removed her pajama pants, and her mound was just starting to get fuzzy again after having been maintained at a state of hairlessness. The look on her face as I approached was pure terror.

"You ok?" I asked. She didn't look it.

"Yeah. I think so. One request though - nothing inside me? No fingers, no toys, nothing. Just your tongue. Please?"

"I can do that." I crawled onto the bed, positioned myself between her spread thighs, and slid my arms under them, reaching over to caress her vulva while I kissed the warm insides of her legs.

Sienna was rigid, and looking up over her body, I saw that she was tense, breathing hard, glaring at the ceiling. "See, what's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. Keep going. Please, I want to cum."

I took a long time trying to bring her to a boil, trying to get her aroused, trying to turn her into the perverted, wanton sexual tiger I'd seen in bed multiple times before. All my licking and kissing her cunt seemed to have no effect, however. She wasn't responding, her hips had only moved away from me, not towards, and I hadn't heard a single sound come from her mouth, no encouragement or enjoyment or even complaint.

She just lay there, burning holes in the white ceiling paint with a terrified glare.

I shrugged her legs off my shoulders and crawled up. "It's not happening, I'm sorry. You want me to get a vibrator?"

"No," Sienna whispered. Tears glistened in her eyes as she fought for composure.

"What's wrong? Is your arm or shoulder hurting you?" She was wearing long sleeves and protectively wrapping the healing burns on her back and arm, doing rehab to keep them from tightening, but they still hurt her all the time.

"It's not that. Its... Its everything. Gary's gonna die and it's my fault and I'm... I'm late."

I went very, very still as my breathing stopped. "What?"

Sienna burst into tears, and I very gently pulled her to me, holding her as she shook and trembled and sobbed into my shoulder. Eventually, I pulled away far enough that I could see her clearly. "See, how...? Gary was snipped. He came in both of us, like, a lot."

"I'm two months late," she moaned, and the look in her face told me she was expecting me to understand the meaning.

"Ok..."

"It wasn't Gary... It was... It..."

I pulled her to me again as she resumed crying, and I felt a very hot, hard ball of hurt and hate climb my esophagus, lodge right in the center of my chest.

Morgan.

MotherFUCKER.

When we separated again I rose to get a glass of water and a box of Kleenex for Sienna. She dabbed her eyes, gave me a glance that said she'd probably start up again any second now.

"What... What are you going to do?"

See blew her nose, rolled tentatively off the bed, and put her pajama pants back on, climbed back up, sat cross-legged, and started tearing a fresh tissue into tiny bits, avoiding my eyes. "I'm gonna keep it," she replied quietly.

"Really? You think that's a good idea?"

She looked up from the pile of Kleenex shreds she was creating on the bedspread. "No, but I'm doing it. This... Baby... Inside me... Its not its fault its father is an asshole. It's not its fault how it got here. It's alive now. NOW."

I stretched and regretted it as the welts on my back complained. "Yeah, but you don't WANT IT."

Her glare actually made me shrink back. "I'm as fucking pro-choice as anyone could be, you think I don't know that? No one has the right to tell me to keep this baby. But you know what, I'm going to anyway. Because it's not its fucking fault!"

I reached out and put a hand on her knee. She looked like she was going to melt at my touch. "I had to have an abortion. I told you, ectopic pregnancy. It's not fun, it's not desirable, it's not the best outcome... But if you need to, if you change your mind... I'm here. I'll take care of you, help you, whatever you need. Anything."